


Send Out The Stars (There Are So Many Roads Left)

by imaginarybarista



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Castle!AU, M/M, and harry is castle, endgame: harry/louis, except not, harry is on track for a boring ass degree, kind of, than plot happens, the nick/harry is just a tiny bit, this is all over the place, trying to make interesting tags without spoilers is hard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-28
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:25:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 24,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarybarista/pseuds/imaginarybarista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Believe it or not, this began as a Castle!AU. (Ha. Not for long.) Harry is still just a kid when he goes to college, but is well on his way to independence. Thoughts keep him up at one am and he doesn't know where he's going... he still doesn't know what's happening (yet still makes plans) when he realizes he doesn't want school anymore, when what matters to him all changes. And then his life is spinning, and he's not entirely sure it's in his control, but he's along for the ride. {Where books are published, bloggers become publishers, music geeks become athletes, and famous people have all the connections} </p><p>((End note shows loose prompt))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I started working on this in July, and I've jumped around from my original plot which is why my summary is so vague? It's a WIP, caution for Harry/Nick but endgame Harry/Louis. The reason I'm not publishing this at it's finish is because it's turning out longer than expected. Please read the end notes as well :) Enjoy! [hopefully.] (Oh yes-- title of work comes from lyrics of two songs: Bring Me The Night by Sam Tsui & Kina Grannis, as well as Relax (Take It Easy) by Mika.) ~For this particular chapter, I totally came up with a fake international music/broadcast company. Thank sony + BBC or something. I did do a little research, and there are real apprenticeships likes this, but they don't 100% jibe with my story so... creative control :)

Harry sits at his laptop and wishes he was dramatic enough to groan. He certainly feels like groaning, just to let something out. He’s not really sure what. He’s just in one of those moods where the computer is annoying because even Google Chrome is slow, he’s tired but can’t sleep, he has to think too much about too many things. He feels very melodramatic.

Harry is no shrink so he can’t tell himself why he feels like he can’t wait for his future to come but is also so lazy and secretly scared that he can’t do anything about it to make it better. He is at the moment in his life when middle aged people love telling him that the world is his oyster (the same people who are warning him that he’ll need to pick a university, pick what he wants to do with his future and life, pay an obnoxious amount of money for a degree that won’t guarantee him a job). He could choose a career with money and stress. He could choose a job where everyone just wants to have a good time, but would he feel any sense or measure of accomplishment?

All in all, he’s satisfied with things the way they are now: Someone taking care of him, he’s doing his part by holding a part-time job for a bit of extra cash... nothing is missing. He thinks about everything that other teenagers have. He measures up pretty well. He’s got friends, a social life. Good grades. No relationship. He’s fine with everything the way it is, because what he has he appreciates- his family and his space and his perfectly lovely material objects that he recognizes he is lucky to have.

These are the thoughts that keep him up at night though. He technically has ‘a year’ before he’ll be moving on from high school but broken down it’s much shorter than that. In reality, he only has eleven months before graduation. But he’ll need to make a final decision about college (if he gets in anywhere, he needs to pick one) in ten months. And he has to make sure he gets in somewhere by sending in applications, in four to six months which is just fucking scary because he can’t make up his mind.

He doesn’t have a “number one” choice and he doesn’t even know what he wants to do because he knows he could be successful at quite a few things, but he doesn’t have a passion or talent for almost anything. He is not athletic. He doesn’t have a gift for art, design, music, or theater. He’s good at studying.

He loves looking at art and hearing about why different people value it, and why others don’t. He can appreciate someone who trains and is fiercely dedicated to a sport. He admires those who can control their bodies and voices and expressions and take on a new persona for the high school plays, and those who can belt it out fearlessly (or fake it until they make it) for the school musicals.

Because of his lack of talent in any of those aspects, he figures he can at least embrace the geek culture; but he isn’t even that good at playing the nerd. He keeps his grades up but the teachers don’t love him best. He does academic team because it’s fun, like being on Jeopardy, but half the time he doesn’t know the answers to the questions. He doesn’t do any public speaking contests and he’s never submitted any of his science projects to the county fair. All in all, he’s quite boring.

Which is why Harry Styles ends up wishing he could just groan at his laptop screen or bang his fists on his lap or pull at his hair. Doing so now would be pointless, because nobody else is around. If anybody were, he’d just get weirded out stares and the people who knew him would ask if something were wrong and he wouldn’t know what to say. How do you explain feeling like you’re worse than everybody at everything but knowing that you’re good at things, that you love art and drama and think that being a movie director would be one of the greatest things to happen but know that there is a zero percent chance of that happening?

He knows that people would tell him that being interested in something other than medicine or law or engineering is still fine, he can still study it and get internships and all... but then he realizes he has absolutely no experience, would never get chosen for an internship, would never have any experience, wouldn’t know what to do, and would probably just end up failing.

Being so pessimistic sucks sometimes. So Harry settles for making a list for himself to follow-- a half guide, half bucket list type ordeal of things to do before graduating that will hopefully propel him out of his rut and maybe let him get some sleep.

He decides to himself, alone in his bed (laptop long shut now), wide awake at one in the morning, that he’ll just fake it until he makes it. If he acts the calm high school senior with sure ideas about his future and confidence that everything will happen according to plan or at least somewhat successfully, it will happen. He will be alright. He will be happy. Nobody will be any the wiser to his inner turmoil (oh God, he exaggerates so much. This isn’t inner turmoil. This is just teenage angst. Just without the experimental weed smoking and crazy Project X style house party.).

Part of acting the part of Harry Styles, the Kid With The Plan, is to plan out an expected university and career path. If he can secure a job or some finances, he won’t have to worry about rent money or shit like that hopefully. He can have the best of both worlds, perhaps-- get a job and then find out all the things he loves in his spare time. He has visions of himself in his head, spending weekdays at a boring office or lab, but evenings out on the town, weekends spent doing activities that cool people do, like kayaking or tasting expensive pastries or alcohol.

To eventually get to that point in his life though-- the appealing vision of a nice place to live, a nice person to share his life with, and a steady if slightly annoying job to pay for the lifestyle he wants-- he just needs to do what he has been doing in school. He’ll keep studying of course, and doing his community service, but maybe it’s time he helped out with crew or something for the drama club. He could call it part one of his whole plan, trying to round out his college application but also in the long run hopefully seeing where it would all take him.

===

Ten months later, Harry is stuck in an uncomfortable chair on a hot Saturday morning, wearing a ridiculous blue “gown” that feels more like one of the wizarding cloaks in Harry Potter. He’s got the stupid cap on his head and he kind of hates himself for hating this so much. He is filled with cynicism because everybody around him is vibrating with the excitement that they’re just about to graduate. The level of anticipation he feels is about the same as the druggie sitting next to him who has a 1.8 GPA and is one of the few people not willing to spout off about “this momentous milestone.” Harry appreciates him.

He’s done everything according to plan: he kicked ass on his standardized tests, got accepted into a few well ranked colleges, picked up a few scholarships here and there. He found time to do a few things that surprised himself and maybe some of his peers, like learn the lightboard for the drama team and write an article for the yearbook. He made new friends, who he’d genuinely miss (and he kind of actually meant it when he told a few to stay in touch). The last nine months have dragged and flown by and now Harry’s sitting through “Commencement” and just one of many speeches. A round of applause breaks him out of his contemplation of his life, future and past, and he realizes names are being called.

While Harry internally is not enthusiastic about this morning and what it means, he’s not a total deadbeat. He is excited in some small way but mainly he feels lost today. He doesn’t know how he was just in second grade, trying to trade his pear for somebody’s Kudos bar at snack time, and is now getting to leave his hometown and have responsibilities and shit. Third grade’s stress was learning cursive, fifth’s was learning the twelves times tables. 

Now he had no stress except to keep on being a good citizen by voting, paying taxes, and worrying about promotions while also finding time to get drunk tailgating and get laid and getting a dog or something to squelch any loneliness or baby-clock shit that was so prevalent in movies. Not that Harry watched those kind of movies. And not that Harry had a daydream where he met his someone at a dog park or something. It was totally unreasonable to plan on buying the perfect chocolate lab to go on jogs with, where he could be ogled or spotted throwing a stick to the pup or something, or where the dog would get away from him so that Harry could chase it down and unwitting run into the beautiful stranger and the stranger would laugh and you know, just fall in love with him.

This is why Harry was so often up at one am. He could say it a million times, he was no shrink. He just wondered if anybody else ever had thoughts like this where they rambled so much in their own minds that they couldn’t ever express it to another person without seeming like either a loon or someone who was a poseur trying to sound deep.

He let himself slip out of his heavy thoughts and focused back on the principal’s slightly shrill voice, calling out the full names of all his classmates as they filed along shaking hands and posing with a diploma in hand as the tassels on their caps were moved to the other side of their face.

===

College was possibly perfect. It was perfect because it was everything Harry expected it to be, so even the bad parts didn’t disappoint him. He knew going in that the food was expensive and would be all fake processed shit. He knew going in that in a few classes, the professor wouldn’t bother showing up and he’d waste his time listening to a TA only a few years older than him try to lecture the class. He knew the showers and bathrooms would be shared and gross, and he knew that he chanced having an idiot roommate. But he also knew many people referred back to college as one of the best times of their lives, and he knew the friends he’d meet and make would be lasting, and that his career could actually kick off after this.

He’d gotten lucky, though. He didn’t show up late to class, and when he was called out by one of his professors for something he’d written, a few people actually bothered talking to him. A few just wanted help in the class, but some were interested in his opinions on the book they were discussing. The latter and even a few of the former stuck around even after first semester and still invited him on their weekend trips off campus or the occasional party. In the spring, Harry listened to his roommate plot to woo a girl (Niall planned on finding something to do around the set where the girl would be working) and decided to join him, to see what the theater kids were doing as far as productions went. He even volunteered to help out with the lighting board. As a freshman, that mainly meant listening to the upperclassmen moan about their lives and the play and the acting ability of everybody while sitting on a stool in the booth. Harry didn’t mind though, because occasionally somebody actually offered up decent advice that he’d store away for later.

Harry still frequently found himself up at one am. He still secretly worried about the success he’d have in his future (he was set up just fine in his field of choice, he knew he’d find a job) but he always wondered that instead of going into business law if he couldn’t do something more technical. He had hung out with some Communication majors and spent time watching them man the university radio station and tv channel, and wondered if he wouldn’t be good at it. He made friends easily and loved music and people so he thought he’d do well at it, but... It was never certain. And law was. So. It was useless wondering if he could be the next big music producer or become a manager or something when he was so safe in law. Right?

That college was possibly perfect was the conclusion in Harry’s mind at the end of freshman year, and that was possibly the last time he ever had that thought again.

===

As his sophomore year started, and advisors started meeting with students, Harry found himself itching to throw away his entire plan. Forget the law degree and the dog, because the dog daydream would never happen to a lawyer. If Harry actually wanted to succeed in law he’d need long hours and charisma. He had the charisma, sure, but he worried he’d never be home, couldn’t take care of a dog, never would get to spend time out on the town that he thought a lawyer’s paycheck could cover.

And so Harry Styles, a so far perfect student, ditched his plan. He signed up for less business and econ classes and took a class on winery/viticulture and a class on journalism.

===

The journalism class turned out to be... memorable. Harry couldn’t think of another word to describe it and landed on memorable because it wasn’t a disaster, but it totally was. And... it totally wasn’t. After a month of the 10 am MonWedFri class, Harry was hooked. Hooked on the writing and the hot TA, but not necessarily the deadlines and the urgent news pieces he had to practice writing.

This journalism class would be what Harry would classify as a game-changer. It was the class of firsts for Harry. For the first time, he realized that writing might be what came to him. It was easier than the shit law classes he had been taking which were so absolutely boring (the history of law was alright, because he learned about record breaking cases and it was cool but Harry didn’t love it) and Harry wasn’t sure why he loved hearing about what made a story front page worthy, especially when he never cared that much in the first place about all the news articles in the world that already existed. 

But for the first time Harry learned about investigative journalism, journalism that could be “photojournaled” around the world, the magazine and blog and freelance writers... the sports writers, the art of writing an editorial... it wasn’t so much reporting facts or sharing anecdotes about traveling that appealed to Harry, but rather the way he could finally communicate his thoughts. He had always internally recited his mantra about not being a shrink and understanding the reasons he felt the way he did or thought the things he thought, and he’d always wondered if anybody else could think the same way as him. And he’d also always struggled with expressing that to anybody (the classic sound like a fool or sound like a wannabe hipster dilemma). But finally he could write something down, and then people-- fully functioning, thinking, caring people-- could read it and it would provoke thought in them and somebody may finally understand him.

Harry had found a passion.

In more ways than one, apparently.

While for the first time he felt ignited to do something (to write! To explain his thoughts! To explore even more new things like record producing or deep sea diving all while staying comfortably in the realm of writing!), he also experienced the first time he ever wanted somebody. In high school there had always been the occasional crush, the person he’d want to impress or maybe somebody he wouldn’t mind making out with on a couch or buying ice cream with. But he’d never felt needy, like if he didn’t get to date or kiss or get to know, really know that person, he’d wander around aimlessly until it happened. He’d never wanted somebody’s attention before. Until now. Then again he’d also never expected the person to make him feel a persistent interest to be a guy, but hey... Harry liked surprises sometimes.

The person in question was the TA who took over the journalism class once a week, and Harry was enamored. He wasn’t in love, and he wasn’t in lust, but he was fascinated. He desperately wanted to know what Nick Grimshaw was thinking at one am, or what his most played song in his iTunes library was, and if he kissed like he laughed (frequently and with many styles and moods). He wanted Nick to pay attention to him, to show him off, and to give him a dorky heart shaped box on Valentine’s Day.

So Harry, in the same way he once made his formal plan of faking his way into adulthood, formed a plan to get what he wanted.

===

The first thing Harry does is volunteer at the student run radio station, where Nick is one of the hosts. The station has maybe 50 people in and out running things, so that like a real station, it can report news, play music, have guests... Not many students get to play host, including Harry. As a sophomore intern and journalism student, he is responsible for creating one news piece a week about campus news that will be reported on air. It will be short, he wouldn’t get to read it, and the host who does get to read it aloud will then add their own commentary.

Harry knows Grimshaw wouldn’t give him the time of day until he does something to catch his attention. He also knows he can’t rush this or he’ll fuck it up and for someone who’s never been in a relationship before, Harry kind of feels a blind confidence. He has no idea what he is doing, so instead of making his first target Nick Grimshaw, he chooses one of the soundmen (who works closely with Nick) to befriend: Liam Payne.

===

Harry spends time at the station the same days he had class, so he in theory is able to squeeze a lunch run in if he can run from class to the nearest dining facility to the station headquarters quickly enough. In theory, class ends right before eleven and Harry has to be at the station just after eleven. But theories, Harry has learned, quite frequently fail him.

After a week of Harry choosing to arrive late to the station or skip food, Niall once again proves himself as a valuable roommate and friend to Harry. “Pack it,” comes as his brief suggestion. Harry had just spent ten minutes explaining his problem to Niall (the Spark Noted version of course being “I still need lunch and don’t know how to make it work”, as Harry occasionally spent a little too much time trying to retell stories so he could include details that were definitely relevant).

A smile cracks on Harry’s face as he imagines himself toting a little kid’s lunchbox. It fades though as Harry turns his face to look at Niall, who mirrors Harry’s current position, lying stretched out on his bed. While Harry is stretched out, head on his arms and ankles crossed on his pillow, Niall sits against the frame with his laptop supported in between his stomach and thighs. An open bag of Doritos sits next to him, and every few minutes Niall snags a chip, carefully only using his left hand so that his right could still use the touchpad without smearing cheese dust everywhere. Niall glances up at Harry’s silence. “What’s the matter with you? Too good to pack your lunch?” he teases.

Harry makes his face exaggeratedly forlorn, in an attempt to make his face seem sad and pitiful to Niall. “No...” he answers slowly. “S’just that class starts at nine,” he pouts. He hopes his frown seems pathetic. “And if I wanted to shower, I just don’t know when I’d have time to pack a lunch and still manage to get breakfast before class unless I woke up early.” He stretches out the last word, saying it with the same faked whininess.

Niall’s finger hovers above the laptop’s touchpad, and Niall's not looking away from Harry’s face. “I know you’re not asking me to pack you lunch,” Niall says without smiling.

Harry pleads. “You’d be the best roommate in the world,” he hints before trying to negotiate. “I... I could return the favor if you would ever need it,” he tries. Niall just raises a single eyebrow.

“C’mon,” he says, swinging his feet off his pillow and onto the floor. “Just once, if it’s terrible I’ll never ask again, and I’ll take you to coffee after the station?” When Niall grins, Harry knows he’s won.

===

True to his word, Niall does indeed pack a lunch for Harry the next morning. Harry takes the bag with him to class, then to the station, managing to arrive on time and with a full stomach. For the next two and a half hours, he fiddles around on the computer creating a setlist for an idea he had. 

Typically, college radio is a hodgepodge of what the students want. There is a bit of reporting, but also shows run by a few hosts mainly for entertainment. There is a spot for advertising different activities happening on campus and downtown, and there are also a few different radio programs. College radio differs from public broadcasting in the sense that the college’s station are more independent and face less regulations than a normal station. Basically, it means college radio would be more willing to play unconventional broadcast pieces and music that might not appear on a top forty chart.

Harry kind of doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing, but by the end of his “shift” he has about forty minutes of a show put together. It doesn’t feel complete, but the research and writing he has done have put him in a good mood (not having hunger pains helps too). At 1:45, Harry waves at a few people, grabs his bags, books, papers, and laptop and heads home.

Before he walks in the direction of his dorm, he walks for about ten minutes to arrive at the closest coffee shop off campus. It’s popular because thanks to it’s off-campus status, it has a permit to sell alcoholic beverages. It is almost always busy, open 24-7, and serves twelve types of breakfast wraps while also offering beer and ice cream. Basically, it’s comfort to any student who needs a place to talk and be loud, enjoy something sweet, or get a decent plate of breakfast without waking up before ten.

Harry pushes through the door and immediately walks up towards the counter, which is plastered in stickers and advertisements. A lengthy menu is up on the wall behind the counter, but Harry doesn’t bother looking as he makes his order. “Two medium coffees, please, and two... uh, the Greek wrap things? The ones with feta? Just one without the olives please.” The cashier nods at him, scribbles on her pad of paper, rips a sheet off, hands it off to a passing employee, and lets her fingernails clack against the register’s keys in one smooth movement.

“Eleven seventy two, please. Pick up at the end of the counter.”

Harry hands over the correct change and leisurely makes his way towards the end of the counter to wait, one hand jammed in his pocket and his other supporting all his stuff.

“Two Greeks two coffees!” A college student wearing a baseball cap and green apron shouts out, examining the plates he has set on the counter before wheeling around hurriedly filling the next order.

Harry steps forward before realizing that he has neglected to ask for everything to go. The wraps, still steaming, sit on their plates, toothpicks holding them together. Harry bites his lip, before stepping forward, trying fruitlessly to catch the attention of the employee. “Hey... hey, can I get a bag? Please?” The employee who had set the plates down on the counter merely whirls, places a plastic bag down next to the coffee, and spins away again.

Harry sighs. He grabs the bag and waves it around looking like a fool as he tries to get the damn plastic thing to open wide enough so that he can try to keep the wraps inside without squashing them.

“Oh! Harry, hey.” Harry turns, notebooks and laptop balanced on his arm and his other arm extended completely in front of him, mid-flap.

“Oh... hi, Liam.” Harry half-grins at the other student who is watching his progress. Liam somehow looks amused but sympathetic. “Just, uh, trying to make this to go,” he tries explaining, making failed attempts at talking with his hands as his arms are full. By now other students who ordered after Harry are stepping up to the counter to get their own meals. Even though he’s only been there for a minute, Harry feels his face turn a little pink as embarrassment sets in. He’s laughing it off though, so he deserves some credit for trying...

Liam’s sympathy has him reacting to help out even as he laughs at Harry. He grabs the bag, flaps it once to get it to open, and sets about getting both wraps onto one plate and into the bag. Harry stands by, one-handedly putting the coffees into a travel tray, the type with four spaces for cups. “Thanks, man,” Harry tells Liam as he manages to slide the coffees in with the wraps.

“No worries,” Liam says easily. “So... either you’re really hungry or a really good person who brings somebody lunch?” he says, with a question in his voice. Harry likes Liam because at the station he’s quiet but not anti social, he still laughs at the jokes and gossip but never has anything negative to offer. Even if he is just being polite and making small talk, he still manages to seem sincere and genuine.

“I’m actually not a good person, I have to admit,” Harry says with a little laugh. “I’m just hungry for a second lunch. My roommate actually packed me one today and I promised him coffee... and I never pass up a wrap when I’m here, they’re legendary for a reason,” he tacks on at the end as he notices Liam reach for a wrap of his own on the counter.

“Right you are,” Liam says before taking a bite out of his, holding the plate up in mid air. “Something about a breakfast wrap at two in the afternoon makes me happy, ya know?”

Harry nods, now clutching the bag of food in one hand while his school stuff still occupies his other arm. “Well, enjoy your wrap!” he tells Liam with a small head nod. He’s already turning towards the exit before Liam swallows his bite and is waving him back.

“Hey, no, keep me company,” the older student offers, motioning Harry toward him. “I never talk to you outside station.”

Harry lets himself settle into a wobbly chair at an even wobblier table with Liam, and carefully slides all his belongings into his lap so Liam still has a place for his plate on the table.

“You’re a journalism major, right?” Liam asks. A piece of scrambled egg falls out of his wrap as he lifts it with two hands.

Harry pulls one of the coffees from the bag before nodding back at Liam. “Yeah, I am. You’re in sound engineering?”

“My true love,” comes the quick answer accompanied by a huge grin. “I could spend a while talking about it. I haven’t mentioned it to anybody at the station yet, but I’ve already got something lined up for next semester. I’m going to switch to school part time, but just for one semester while I have this internship thing.”

“Where?” Harry asks, genuine interest and excitement for Liam in his voice.

Liam just winks. “‘S a secret,” he tells Harry. “How about you tell me something first?” Harry shrugs, accepting. “Why journalism?”

For the next fifteen minutes, Liam and Harry sit at their wobbly table. Harry stumbles through an explanation of his attempt of studying business law before realizing he felt more at home learning how to address people and express himself than he did memorizing rules and learning how to construct contracts. Liam nods, listening attentively through the whole thing. The two trade stories back and forth about their time at the station. Liam has better range of stories because of his longer experience there and keeps Harry thoroughly entertained.

By the time Harry realizes he should get the food back to Niall before a microwave will be needed on it, he feels like he’s made a good friend.

===

When Harry gets to his dorm room, Niall has the bag of Doritos next to him again. Niall’s fingers are tapping against the keyboard but stop as Harry sets the bag on the desk next to the door. “Hey.”

“Hey. Brought you lunch, it should still be sort of warm. There’s coffee too.”

“Thanks, man.” Niall sets his laptop on his pillow and stands up, lifting his hands above his head to stretch. He wanders over to the bag and peeks in. “You,” Niall begins as he started to eat the wrap, “didn’t have to do this. I would’ve taken the coffee. But I’m not complaining. Was it busy?”

“The usual,” Harry replies as he unzips his laptop case and pulls it out before settling onto his own bed. “Ran into Liam Payne.”

“Man, what kind is this? The tortilla thing even has herbs in it and I swear that the scrambled eggs taste better than usual.... who’s that?”

“It’s a Greek, they use Greek cheese and herbs and shit. It’s good, no? And you know, the guy from the station that does some of the remixes on Fridays.”

“The guy who made Turn Me On listenable?” Niall’s voice is both amused and impressed.

“The one and the same.”

Niall shoots Harry a look. “Wait... he’s friends with Grimshaw, right?” Harry’s decision to ignore him in favor of logging onto his computer might be a bit stupid, because it just makes Niall more pushy. “Harry, you’ve mentioned more than once that you wish you could just talk to Nick, because he’s really cool, and you wonder where he gets his hair cut, and where does he find those books he always mentions?”

Harry rolls his eyes and flips the bird at Niall’s mocking tone. “I don’t sound like that,” he says, trying and failing to not sound five years old.

“You kinda do, mate,” Niall says evenly but lets it drop. “You know, since I slaved over lunch for you, you could really do me a solid and run my laundry for me,” he said, changing the subject easily.

“Only because you’re cute, Horan,” Harry teases back.

===

“What, are you stalking me?” Harry has just walked into the basement laundry room with two baskets stacked and a pocket full of quarters only to discover Liam Payne loading a dryer.

Harry just laughs. “It wasn’t my idea to do laundry, I swear. I’m doing my roommate a favor.”

“The same roommate you bought lunch for?” Harry nods. “Must be someone special. When I was a sophomore I don’t remember liking my roommate enough to do their laundry. In fact I don’t even remember if my roommate did laundry... Doesn’t matter now though, I live with someone better now.”

“I don’t mind. We roomed together last year and we actually requested each other this year.” Harry starts to stuff clothes into the machine. Liam in turn hops up to sit on top of the dryer.

“Who’re you with? Is he a journalism major too?”

“No, he’s in marketing. Or so he claims. He’s always writing and I know he messes around a lot with these mock campaigns he does, but I’m not sure what he actually does. A few weeks ago he actually sent me to Walmart to get him an honest to God box of Wheaties-- for research. Um, it’s Niall Horan, you know him? Dyed blonde hair, just a bit shorter than me?”

Liam laughs at the mention of Wheaties, but shakes his head. “I think maybe I’ve seen him around once if he’s come to see you at the station but I’ve never talked to him.”

Harry nods. “He came by because he wanted to talk about radio advertising.” He pushes four quarters into the washer and spins the dial before pulling the knob. “So who do you room with?” He asks to keep the conversation going.

He doesn’t know if the surprise he feels is warranted, but Harry grins when Liam answers, “Nick Grimshaw, actually. I know it wouldn’t seem like we’re really good friends, but we get along pretty well and we both want to go into the same business so it’d be nice to have contacts in the future. Actually, he might be doing something at the same station where I’m interning,” Liam adds, not noticing the eagerness on Harry’s face. “He’s started to bug me to tell people about the internship, but I don’t know...” he trails off.

“From what he seems like when he’s hosting, if he’s bugging you he’s not going to let it go,” Harry points it out. “What’s keeping you from telling?”

Liam shrugs. “I just don’t want to seem like I’m bragging? And I don’t want it to fall through and then find myself having to explain to people.”

Harry punches Liam in the shoulder lightly. “Well, good luck. Want to wait for the laundry with me?”

===

For the next few weeks at the studio, Harry always say hi to Liam who returns the greeting with a smile and a wave. One afternoon Harry approaches the older student. “I’ve got this idea, but it sounds ridiculous.”

Liam makes a motion with his hands, as if giving Harry permission to go on.

“Well, I’ve been a good intern, I think,” Harry begins.

“You are, mate, don’t sell yourself short,” Liam interrupts.

“Thanks,” Harry says with a quick smile before continuing. “I’ve had a few ideas that have been used already, like the concert series,” he says. “So the one I have now I’m kind of excited for. Back in the thirties and forties, when radio really took off and before TV was big, radio used to be really important.” Liam nods. “Radio was a primary way to get news and music but it had more to offer entertainment wise. I’ve heard that some stations played programs like tv shows and soaps, where different voices would be used to distinguish characters and a narrator. I was thinking we could do something like that here-- we could get student submissions for shows and then the different hosts or some drama majors could come in and do voice acting. I’d need your help because it’d all need to be mixed and have effects added. Like rain or doors creaking or gunshots, that kind of thing.” Harry stops talking and watches Liam for a moment, waits for him to speak.

Liam has his chin tipped to the side a little, contemplating the idea. “I could help you, but you’d need a script first plus people who’d promise to do the speaking and then you-- and I, if you’d want-- can propose it to the rest of the gang for approval.”

Harry beams. “That’d be great! I’ve got something started, I’ll take care of the rest.”

“No problem, man, it sounds like a cool idea.”

Harry, still smiling, turns away to let Liam continue his work at the computer in front of him. Before he can leave, Liam stops him. “Hey Harry?” Harry pausesin the doorway. “I finally caved,” Liam admits. “The internship is pretty much going to happen at this point, and a few of my mates are throwing a party as a kind of celebration thing? You don’t have to go, but it’d be fun if you did.”

“When is it?”

“Friday night. Bring Niall or whoever.”

“Will do,” Harry returns a grin and ducks through the doorway.

===

“We’ve been invited to a party. We’re going to a party. Friday,” Harry announces, breezing through the room before plopping onto his bed.

“Hullo, Harry,” Niall says in a monotone. “My day was nice, Harry. Oh, did you want to politely invite me to a party on Friday, Harry? I’d love to go, Harry. Except that I don’t say yes like that when I don’t know the who what where when why, Harry,” Niall continues.

“Okay, shut up, Niall. “ Harry says huffily. “How was your day?”

Niall just looks at him. “It was fine, you really don’t have to ask. Seriously, I just want you to tell me about the party. Especially because the Harry I knew last year wouldn’t party after he got spectacularly hammered after finals before he went home and told his parents he was quitting the law track.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at Niall. “That was ages ago. But we’re definitely going to this one because it’s for Liam. He got this really big internship and so we’re celebrating.”

“And it doesn’t hurt that Nick Grimshaw will probably be there? And most likely intoxicated, so that you-- ahem-- can, let us say, put some smooth moves on?”

Harry frowns at Niall. “It’s totally not fair that you assume I’d hook up with someone at a party.”

Niall is silent. “You’re a teenaged boy in college, Harry.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to be a slut.”

“Harold.”

“Niall.”

“Fine, fine, you want to go to a party so you can see an intoxicated Nick Grimshaw and get intoxicated yourself and not do a single thing?”

“Precisely.”

Niall just rolls his eyes.

===

By Friday night, Harry has worked up some nerves but is mainly eager to see where his night will take him. When he arrives at the party, Liam welcomes him personally and is holding a red cup. “Hey, Harry,” he says, having to speak louder than usual to be heard over music and laughter as he slings an arm over Harry’s shoulder.

Harry motions at Niall, pointing. “This is Niall. Niall, Liam.”

“Thanks for coming, both of you. Drinks are that way--” the arm with the cup comes swinging out-- “bathrooms are over there--” the cup swings back-- “and I’ll be all over but the music set up is on the breakfast nook.”

Harry nods and allows Niall to lead them through the party. He sees Nick a few times; the first comes while he’s taking a body shot off a girl from Harry’s journalism class. He spots him again when somebody starts a fire in the small house’s equally cramped backyard. There are four people in lawn chairs next to a cooler, staring at the flames. Liam is one of them, so Harry walks over to him and sinks into the fifth chair. Liam looks up from the flickering flames and smiles. “Hey, Harry.”

“‘Lo, everyone.”

A chorus of quiet greetings come back to him-- and that’s when he realizes Nick is sitting in one of the chairs as well.

Harry’s feeling a little sleepy from his drinks and the crisp air, and feels his eyes begin to droop as the small group stares at the fire. Nick is actually the first one to break the silence, which has actually been quite peaceful. The distance from the house muffles the music and chatting and laughing from the inside, and the backyard is dark other than the light provided through the windows and by the campfire.

“So, Liam. Introduce us,” Grimmy suggests with an eyebrow waggle at Liam.

Liam lifts a hand and flaps it at Harry. “Ladies and gents, Harry. Harry, Nick and Greg and Shelby.” Liam’s friends all lift a hand in acknowledgement when introduced.

The only girl in the group Harry recognizes from the school paper, whose headquarters are in the same building as Harry’s journalism class. “Hi, Harry,” she says with a warm smile. “I don’t think we’ve met. Obviously I’m Shelby... please don’t judge me for hanging out with these fools,” she tells Harry. “‘Specially Liam. Right troublemaker, he is.”

Harry chuckles. “Right, definitely. It explains why he’s always so unhelpful and inconsiderate all the time,” he says, playing along.

This (surprisingly enough) makes Grimmy laugh, and Harry looks over and can’t help the huge grin on his face. Nick thinks he is funny. Oh God. Nick is paying attention to him, and it isn’t journalism class. He's no longer his TA, or a boss at the station... he is a real live person who is friends with Liam. Harry needs a moment to remember that this is all a good thing, that he wants to get to know Grimshaw better, and to chill the fuck out.

“If that’s what you think of Li here, I’d be afraid of what you’d say ‘bout me,” Nick says, eyebrows raised in challenge. Harry would think he was actually offended, but Nick’s lips are half quirked into a smile.

“I’d say you were an angel.” The words have fallen out of Harry’s mouth without his consent, and he freezes in his seat, looking at Nick in horror. He did not mean to say that. He did not mean to say that, swear to God. It’s one of those things that happens when your mind and mouth don’t connect, but Harry’s just... oh, dear.

Nick seems not to mind though, still thinking that Harry’s kidding. “Well thanks, doll. ‘M flattered, truly.” He turns to Liam. “Guess you’re Satan, Leem,” he says, then shoots a sly smile at Harry. “What’s that make you, then?”

“I guess... I’d be...” Harry officially wants to replace his brain. Nothing is coming to his mouth now and he can’t speak.

“Harry’s be an angel too. He does his room mate’s laundry,” Liam breaks in, saving him from stuttering any longer. 

Nick raises an eyebrow, an impressed look on his face. “That’s quite sweet.” His tone is dry, but doesn’t seem to be teasing. Harry just nods, and the group returns to silence as they stare at the flames.

A few minutes later, Greg gets up with Shelby to go find the group of girlfriends she came to the party with and it’s just Liam, Nick, and Harry sitting in plastic lawn chairs that sink into the soft ground when they shift too much.

“So, Liam, have you started telling more people about your internship?” Harry asks. He doesn’t miss the way that Nick’s eyes flick up in interest, maybe surprised that Harry knows. Honestly, this party seems a little low-key for everyone to supposedly know about and be celebrating Liam's internship.

“I’ve let a few people know, but I think that we’ll do another party just after finals. Once this semester is over, I’ll switch to just a few credits,” Liam answers. 

Nick shifts his gaze from Liam to Harry. “We’re quite proud of our Leeyum,” he says, stretching Liam’s name out. 

Liam meanwhile just has a little smile on his face, satisfied but modest at the same time. “Thanks, Nick. Just happy to join you, really.” 

Nick is laughing and saying something about becoming each other’s work husbands, but Harry is still caught on Liam’s words. “Wait,” he tries to catch up, “Are you leaving, too?” 

Nick shakes his head. “Not leaving, still going part time like Liam. But we’ve both got internships at the same company,” he explains. “I get to do what you do, ‘cept instead of being a grunt at a college station, I’m gonna be on a major station. I don’t know if I’ll get to do any broadcasts, but it’s a huge step.” He can’t contain his shit-eating grin, kicks his foot out to nudge a log. The embers glow brightly for a moment, and a million sparks fly up.

“And I get to do some mixing. I’ll be doing some audio work for the station itself, but also working on new music with production,” Liam adds in. 

Harry’s impressed. “S’cool that you have these things you’re really good at, man,” he directs towards both of them. “I’m probably just gonna end up with some boring ass law degree.” He hears a little bit of regret in his voice, but he can’t help it. Sometimes when he drinks it just amplifies whatever he’s feeling, sometimes it buoys his mood. This time, it makes him a little sad.

“Harold, I’ve read some of your journalism assignments, and I can tell you that there is still hope. You’ve got style. For boring ass legal pieces, you still write them with some sort of humanity?” Nick’s voice turns up in a question at the end, like he isn’t sure how to phrase his compliment.

Harry’s cheeks are pinkening. “Thanks, mate,” he says quietly. There are a few seconds of silence before Harry’s getting up, scooching his lawn chair back. “Uh, thanks for the invite, Liam. Thanks for inviting me, I had a really great time, but I’ve got to go check on Niall.” 

He doesn’t look at Nick (were they flirting?) and ignores Liam’s purposely confused face, rushing away. 

He isn’t sure why Nick makes him feel so uncomfortable. It was just one compliment. But it's like the fact that Harry sort of wants to date him overtakes his body every time they meet. He gets tongue tied because he wants to know Nick, thinks he's funny and fit, but doesn't know if Nick shares any of the same feelings about Harry. The next morning, Nick’s at the station with a coffee for Harry-- Nick isn’t even supposed to be back in Harry’s little booth, but there he is. On a Saturday. Harry isn’t even supposed to be there, he just came in to work on the drama program.

He’s leaning up against Harry’s desk that is shared with two other interns that take different shifts. His bum is on the corner of Harry’s desk, and he’s in the way. Harry stands there, just looking at him, before blushing when Nick says, “Hi, Harold. Brought you coffee.” 

Harry reaches out for the proffered coffee, murmurs a quiet “Thanks,” and then looks at his shoes. 

“I meant it last night, you know. You’re a pretty good student, and you can do whatever you want. Even if you decide you want a boring ass law degree.” He’s smiling.

Harry feels his lips quirk up for a second. “Thanks. And I meant what I said, too-- it’s really cool that you’ve got a job with...” Whoops. 

“Rolle,” Nick helpfully supplies. “It’s pronounced role, like the role a person plays, but also roll, like rock and roll or a drum roll and the like. I dunno, I didn’t come up with it,” Nick shrugs. 

Harry’s jaw drops for a second, because he’s heard of Rolle and they’re responsible for a few nightclubs, the success of some famous artists, they develop new sound technology, and they’re even involved in broadcasting. Harry can see why both Nick and Liam would be so excited to go to work for them. 

“That’s awesome,” Harry says truthfully. “Really phenomenal.” Nick’s looking at him then, smiling, and Harry has just a second before he realizes he shouldn’t stare. He should talk. You know, like a normal human being in a workplace. “How’d you know I’d be here?” is the best he comes up with. He could hit himself. At least he hadn’t asked Nick why he was there, he thinks. But still. 

Nick only snorts and chuckles. “I’m your secret stalker, Harold.” Harry’s looking at him, eyes green and amused. “Just kidding,” he winks. “Liam said you’ve been working on Saturdays for some sort of television radio show.”

Harry nods. “Yeah, I’ve got this idea to do an antique radio show. They had these little mysteries or stories and listeners would hear different characters voiced out with effects for dripping water or horses’ hooves and stuff and they’d listen to it. Like a cross between an audiobook and... an animated film, sort of?” Harry tries to explain. 

Nick’s bobbing his head in understanding. “Sounds cool. Let me know if I can help, mate.” He puts a hand up in a little wave before unseating himself off Harry’s desk. “Have a good one, Harold.”

“Bye,” Harry mumbles, watching Nick leave. (His eyes may or not be looking at Nick’s long frame, trying to determine what it is that makes him attractive. Back in Holmes Chapel, Harry had thought he hadn’t found the right person. Plus, he thought being gay-- or whatever-- would be something that people figured out pretty early on. Harry just shrugged it off. Trying to define it wouldn’t make him feel any differently, so what was really the point?) 

===

When Harry gets back to his room, wrap from the Breakfast Bar (the shop that sold breakfast and doubled as a bar) in hand, Niall is once again stretched on his bed, laptop on his lap. They exchange hellos before Harry settles down onto his own bed and clicks open a google doc. 

He’s thinking about what Nick told him, the things he’s been feeling lately, how awesome of a friend Niall has been, what he might want to do with his life. He thinks about how he may switch back to his law classes because journalism and learning to make wine are amazing and fun and the people in those classes are great but he still feels insecure about life in general. Not so much insecure... but just unsure of where he fits into the world, unsure of his own abilities or skills. He thinks back to journalism again, the spark of warmth that flooded through him when he realized he might be able to convey what he thinks safely from the realm of a newspaper column.

Soon he's thinking about his internship again. He’s been working so hard on the drama for the radio station, because before the station can accept student submissions, they need a trial run. Ergo, Harry has to write a story that can be used to make his project come to life. When Harry finally comes out of his own thoughts, he clicks open the google document with his project on it.

It’s nearly finished, just a short story really, and he only works on it until midnight before it’s finished because he’s spent the last few weekends writing it. A few hours each Saturday for a month and presto, a story. 

He falls asleep to Passenger crooning along in one ear and the quiet breathy sounds of Niall asleep coming from across the room. 

===


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets to know Liam and Nick more, and Harry has a fun emotional roller coaster in the span of ten minutes in the aftermath of ... stuff. {I really suck at summaries?}

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, I still don't know what I'm doing with fic? I promise I do know where this is going and at this rate can promise at least ten chapters. Most will be longer than this one and this is sort of boring but important and relevant and needs to be included or else I'd cut it. :) constructive comments appreciated!

Harry wakes up the next morning and just lays in bed for a few minutes. It’s mid November now of his sophomore year, and finals will be in a few weeks before Christmas holidays start up. The temperature has dropped enough that Harry wears long pants to bed now with a t-shirt, isn’t eager to leave the warm cocoon of his sheets.

 

He flips over, sees that Niall is actually awake and, as usual, his laptop is open on the bed. Niall’s on his stomach, a fuzzy blanket tucked up over his shoulders.

 

“Ghmorning,” Harry mumbles. He’s never been good at enunciating when he first wakes up. His voice comes out a little low, a little croaky.

 

“Morning, Harry,” Niall responds, distracted by his screen.  

 

Harry is quiet for a few more moments before trying to talk to Niall. “Ni?”

 

“Mm?”

 

“D’you ever feel like you’ve not got anything you’re good at?”

 

Niall turns from his screen, looks across the room at Harry. “All the time, mate. It’s the human condition. Why, did somethin’ happen?” He’s concerned, but he isn’t pushing.

 

“Not really...” Harry says slowly. “But, it’s just... everything I thought I had figured out is turning to shit? I mean, not bad... it’s like, it’s just falling apart?”

 

Niall’s completely stopped typing now, and he’s sat up so that he is leaning against the wall so he can face Harry. “Talk to me.”

 

Harry smiles a little at Niall trying to convey reassurance that Harry isn’t off his rocker. “I dunno where to begin, man...”

 

Niall’s hands come up. “Harry, bro, we’ve been living together for over a year. We’ve got each other’s back. I don’t even have to remind you of all the shit I’ve pulled that you’ve backed me up on. You run to get me fuckin’ Wheaties when I need them, man.”

 

Harry nods, feeling maybe a little bit better. “It’s just... if you’d asked me a year ago what my life would be like, I could tell you. I would’ve said that I was gonna study law. Get a good job. Have some fun, then settle down. Do the family thing. But now... I don’t have any fucking clue what I want, all I know is that it’s not that. It’s not an office, it can’t be me just partying all the time, I don’t fit in anywhere, Niall.” Harry speaks slowly, even though he’s not considering everything he says. This is pure rambling, but if Harry can lean on anybody, it’s Niall.

 

Niall’s listening, nodding along to show Harry that he’s paying attention.

 

Harry takes another deep breath, plays with the sheets in his hand. “And I feel like I need a therapist. I can’t explain how I feel to anybody, ‘cept maybe you, but I can’t fucking lean on you all the time. You can’t spend your time tryin’ta fix my thoughts and make me not feel mental.”

 

Niall’s still quiet, so Harry keeps going. “Then this Nick thing... I. It just. I went in to class one day, thinking ‘Oh, I’m just going to journalism!’” Harry tries to sound nonchalant. “Then BAM! He’s just up there, talking, and I think: he’d be really cool to talk to. But not friend talk."

 

Niall's smiling now. "I know what you mean," he tells his friend. "But I don’t get the turning to shit part. Like, okay, so you’re not heading down the career path. And you might not be exclusive to fancying girls. But you’re still the same as the rest of us. You still study and you still chill and you still are in a mutual attraction thing.”

 

Harry pauses to consider what Niall’s said. “I guess you’re right,” he starts. “Just... feeling a little lost, I guess. No plans. Not used to it.”

 

Niall looks at his laptop for a second, and Harry wonders if Niall wishes he didn’t have to listen to Harry vent. “How ‘bout you make a list? Or a plan, whatever. But if you had a plan-- the law career, the family and all that... just make a new one, like an updated one or summat.”

 

For some reason, that actually makes sense. “You actually just made a lot of sense, Niall,” Harry teases, a light note of relief coloring his tone.

 

Niall rolls his eyes. “Screw you, I’m always helpful,” he mutters, then reaches for his laptop.

 

“Thanks, though. Really,” Harry says. He catches Niall’s “you’re welcome” nod before wrapping himself up in his comforter. He manages to stay in his little nest on the bed and reaches over to snag his own laptop of the desk so he can start his plan.

 

===

 

He’s been multitasking (playing Candy Crush, occasionally looking back at his document with a few random words on it, and he totally has a tab open to research a theory for his philosophy class) for about half an hour before his phone lights up.

 

He sees the little green icon and swipes across it to open his messages. _“How’s the radio pjct goin??”_ It’s from Liam, and Harry quickly thumbs back an answer.

 

_“Finished last night! Now I only need voices and sounds and everything else basically”_

 

Liam’s answer pings back a minute later. _“Great! do you want to meet for lunch and go over it?”_

 

Harry’s just about to text a “ _yes_ ” back, but then Liam sends another message. “ _i think i might bring grimmy bc he’ll need to hear it befor it goes on air is that ok? hes really interested”_

 

Harry blanches. He’s screaming at himself to accept the invitation: it’s exactly what he wants, he wants to get to know Nick better, he should be proud and share his project... but at the same time...

 

Before he can convince himself out of it, he shoots back _“breakfast bar? noon?”_

 

Liam sends back an affirmative in the form of a thumbs up emoji, and Harry’s left staring blankly at his document.

 

It’s empty save for “LIFE PLAN: job? money? life?” and it makes Harry cringe, so he quickly erases them. A thought that’s come through his mind a few times seems to be taking root now, because suddenly has an urge to just journal his thoughts out.

 

He hasn’t journaled since he was 12 and thought it’d be interesting to read what he wrote when he was older. It turned out 12 year old Harry’s writings were mainly about his friends or a show he liked, and the habit hadn’t stuck.

 

But he knows the ache in his back that he got when he sat in a chair for six hours and did his journalism assignments and worked on his project, and the pride that came with it because he knew how much of himself he had put into both.

 

He starts writing. At first it’s slow, and he’s mainly just doing short little lines about himself. He’s done a biography, listed where he was born and the college he’s attending, then gets to the hard part. He’s trying to describe himself now and doesn’t have an adjective.

 

So instead, Harry writes about the person he wants to be. About the person he’d hope to meet in the future and start a family with. He writes and he sees himself putting in characteristics of the people he’s met and known into the person he’s describing.

 

He’s lost himself in the document when he absent-mindedly gets an alert on his phone (5 full lives on Candy Crush!) and he sees what time it is. It’s 11:30, and he’s been typing for three and a half hours.

 

He throws his covers off, the blankets wrapping around his computer, and he’s slipping his pants off while jumping towards his dresser. He chucks the pants at the bed, grabs a pair of briefs, and tugs them on before pulling on jeans. He’s hopping on one foot putting on a sock when Niall comes through the door, freshly showered. He’d headed out to to grab breakfast and a shower before Harry lost track of time.

 

Harry’s shirtless now, looking through his dresser now to try and find a shirt. As soon as he’s pulled it over his head and is trying to find his left boot, Niall’s laughing at him. “You look like you lost your head, mate,” he says, clearly amused and not helping in the slightest.

 

“Can’t- find- my- shoe,” Harry mutters, dropping to the floor to check under the bed. Sure enough, it’s wedged against a box. He yanks it out and slips it on.

 

“What the hell are you even doing?” Niall’s setting up his ever-present laptop on his desk.

 

“I’ve got lunch.” He waits a second. “With Grimmy.”

 

Niall’s eyes widen. “And the shy, virginal Harry gets his man!”

 

Harry narrows his eyes at Niall. “Don’t you dare. Never say that again, you sounded like a date show host or a creepy... I don’t know.”

 

Niall rolls his eyes. “At least let me be happy for you! See, I bet your plan is already working. You probably amended your plan to fit Nick Grimshaw in, and now look! It’s happening!”

 

Now it’s Harry’s turn to roll his eyes. “Bullshit.” He grabs his key chain with his ID, dorm key, and food card on it and stuffs it into a pocket. “It’s not like that, anyway, I’m meeting Liam.” In the other pocket, he barely wedges his phone. It finds its familiar groove, where the denim already has lines of use from the phone being stuck in the same place repeatedly. Lastly he pulls his laptop from where it’s tangled in bedsheets and heads towards the door. It’s 11:40, so Harry figures he’ll make it in time.

 

“Whatever you say, I’ll know it’s true!” Niall calls out as Harry slams the door behind him.

 

===

 

He’s just a few minutes early when he gets to the cafe/deli, but Nick’s already there, waiting just inside the door. Liam is... not visible at the moment. Terrific. Harry walks through the crowded patio, stepping over peoples’ bags and trying not to bump into anyone. Nick opens the door for Harry, smiling at him.

 

“Hi, Harold.”

 

“Hi, Nick.”

 

“You can call me Grimmy, if you’d like,” Nick says, ushering Harry through the cafe towards a back corner where Liam is sitting at a high table.

 

Harry doesn’t answer, just sets his laptop on the table and nods at Liam. “Have you already gotten food?”

 

Liam shakes his head, and Nick speaks up again. “Nah, but I’m getting a spot in line. We can go up together.”

 

Harry just nods and follows Nick to the end of the line. They’re quiet while in line, and they both start to talk at the same time.

 

“So what--”

 

“So what--”

 

Harry and Nick both laugh, and Nick waves at Harry to go first. “So what,” he starts again, “are you going to be doing at Rolle? I mean, other than just coffee runs.”

 

Nick smiles, his eyes lighting up. It’s easy to see that he’s so excited, it’s all over his face. “Well, like I told you before, I basically am just a coffee boy. But I’m gonna be making contacts, and I’ll hopefully get to work myself up to contribute to stories and broadcasts and then maybe, the goal is, that I’ll eventually get to either write a show or host. Preferably both, because I’d hate the idea of coming up with someone else’s material or using none of my own stuff. But my turn now-- what did your project end up like? I’m sure I’m gonna be dazzled,” he winks.

 

Harry’s eyes catch on the way one of Nick’s loose curls flicks when he tips his head for the wink. He wishes he were smooth enough to just hit on Nick, smooth it back while suggesting they go out to dinner. Instead, he settles for an answer. “Murder mystery.”

 

“Care to elaborate?” One of Nick’s eyebrows is raised in question.

 

Harry just grins. “You’ll have to wait and see,” he smirks. Or tries to. Is he doing this right? (Oh, for God’s sake. This isn’t even flirting, probably. Taken out of context, which there is none of because this is a work-related lunch, there is absolutely no reason to see flirting in this conversation. Except... that Harry still sort of feels like he is. Huh.)

 

By now, the two have reached the ordering station. Nick puts in his and Liam’s orders, and surprises Harry by ordering the three of them each a giant cookie before he lets Harry make his order.

 

===

 

The lunch goes smoothly. Harry gives a little presentation of his project, mainly by letting Liam and Nick read his script and the other two students talk between themselves about how to broadcast it.

 

Harry’s not quite sure when the conversation veers from how long segments should be and the nights they should be broadcasted or a premiere night when he suddenly tunes in to the conversation and Liam’s talking about a party.

 

“I think Friday would be fine,” Liam’s saying. “Gives you a week to let everyone know.”

 

Nick is chewing on a bite of m&m cookie, looking thoughtful. “Sounds good to me,” he says. “We can have booze, really celebrate the news and stuff. I can host. You should come, Harry.”

 

“Me?” Harry’s trying not to sound eager. He may not be succeeding. Niall was right-- his loose plan involving Nick Grimshaw was actually working. For all the cliches, he had planned on getting closer to initiate a cute meet-- work at the station, befriend Liam, befriend Nick, date Nick, so on and so on. He’s just been unreasonably dorky when Nick’s around-- like, you know, running away from parties because a compliment was given.

 

This could be Harry’s chance to redeem himself. Meanwhile, Nick’s answering, “Yes you, Harold. It’d be a joy to have you in the fine establishment of my home, yada yada yada, just come on Friday and plan on getting pissed. Or being a gentleman. Whatever you prefer.” He winks again.

 

Harry blushes (again). “I... could do that,” he says. “Is it alright if I bring a friend?”

 

Nick’s face doesn’t show a change in emotion except that his lower lip twists a little.

 

“Niall?” Liam asks, curious.

 

When Harry nods, Liam nods too. “Sure, I don’t care. But it’s up to Grimmy, it’s his house.”

 

“Yeah, it’s fine with me,” Nick says, casually.

 

“Good! I’ll be there,” Harry says, and reaches for his cookie. Happy moments deserve happy food, after all.

 

===

 

The week passes rather quickly. Nick’s been making little announcements about Harry’s segment piece, calling out for auditions so that they can find voice actors.

 

He brings coffee for Harry twice, on Tuesday and Thursday, but other than that he ignores Harry. It’s like when they talk, Nick’s friendly and Harry thinks that they are sort of flirting-- Nick’s full of humor and slips easily into using what should be way too much innuendo-- and for the most part, Harry thinks he’s doing this whole thing just fine. But he isn’t exactly experienced. Sure, the whole “starting a relationship” thing shouldn’t be _that_ different than with a girl, but Harry isn’t exactly an expert on that front either. He’s not so sure, but he’s been told he’s charming. Whatever.

 

On Wednesday, Niall backs out of the party, turning Harry down to take the girl he’s been dating out to dinner. Niall’s said that they’re not dating, just discussing possible business ventures, but Harry thinks he’s full of shit.

 

Harry tells Nick just as much on Thursday and Nick almost laughs his head off, with a hand on Harry’s shoulder. But then when Harry shifts a little (not out of discomfort! Only to adjust his shirt, swear to God.), Nick lets his hand fall and leaves Harry alone the rest of the day.

 

===

 

The next night, Harry’s been at the party for only about ten minutes before he finds Nick-- or rather, until Nick finds him. Harry had left his dorm at ten, deciding that fashionably late was perfectly acceptable. Nobody wanted to be the first one at the party, anyway.

 

When he arrives, he’s ushered in by Liam, pulled in with an arm on his elbow. It is just loud enough that Liam has to lean in to point out which direction the drinks are in, and that Harry has to press close to Liam to maneuver through the clump of people congregated around the door.

 

He’s popping the tab on his beer when he feels something wet touch his neck. Recoiling and stepping away from whoever is behind him, he turns around to see Nick sticking his tongue out at Harry around a big grin. Harry feels his shoulders relax, and he rolls his eyes at Nick and tries not to blush.

 

“Hey, sweet doll o’ mine,” Nick drawls out, scooting closer to Harry. Nick’s red plastic cup is filled with only about an inch of dark liquid.

 

“Hey... Nick,” Harry replies, struggling to come up with some term of affection without sounding foolish. Nick made it look easy but Harry just feels awkward.

 

Somebody bumps into Nick from behind, who stumbles further as the contents in his cup slosh up the sides. His hands come out to steady himself, and with it, manages to spill what little is left of his drink on Harry’s chest.

 

Harry is beginning to wonder if this isn’t Nick’s first drink as he holds Nick up against him, Nick’s hands rubbing little circles into Harry’s (damp) flannel shirt. He’s taken by surprise when Nick leans in close, leans down a little to press his face on Harry’s shirt. “...’s soft,” is the mumbled reasoning he gets.

 

Harry brings a hand up to Nick’s hair, patting him in attempt to be soothing. This is not how Harry imagined this meeting going. In fact, he’s surprised Nick even came up to him at all. He tries not to feel disappointed as he reasons that the only reason this is happening is because Nick’s drunk.

“I’m not drunk, by the way,” Nick tells him as he leans back, hands now clutching Harry’s forearms. “‘s my first drink. I only fell because that prick pushed me.” Nick’s eyes are focused on Harry’s, his face isn’t flushed, and he isn’t swaying. His eyes aren’t glazed over, so Harry believes him. He still doesn’t know what to say though. What is he supposed to do? What does anyone do when the person they’ve had a crush on from afar suddenly plops themselves basically in your lap at a party?

 

“Oh. Okay.” Harry’s aptitude for words is seriously off the charts right now. Seriously. “Um. Well. I’m not drunk either. I’m... I’m going to clean up. Bye.” He spins around and walks over to the kitchen sink, mentally cursing himself over for his awkwardness. He seriously just pushed Nick off of him. What. Why. Idiot. He’s got a mantra for himself.

 

He unbuttons his shirt, leaving just a white tee on as he holds the shirt under the faucet to rinse the alcohol off.

 

When he turns around a minute later, flannel on but not buttoned, Nick’s gone.

 

===

 

An hour later, Harry is on a couch. People have been steadily leaving the party, either to go to a pub, club, or bar, or find someone to hook up with, but people have also been coming through the front door consistently. Harry’s sitting alone, watching the door, when out of nowhere a heavy weight lands in his lap. Luckily, his drink isn’t sacrificed as it sits on the sofa’s arm.

 

Harry looks down. Grimmy’s head and upper body is resting on his thighs, the rest of his body stretched out on the couch, legs draped over the other arm. “Uh, hello.” This is as loose as Nick has ever been around Harry, and he seems inebriated at this point (though his hair remains haphazardly up).

 

“Hiya, Harry. Harold. Haroldarry.” Nick’s hand comes up to pat at Harry’s cheek. “You lost your shirt.” It’s true. Harry had just taken it off, stuffed it in the waist of his jeans. It was too hot to keep it on. “You’re very pretty like this, you know. You look younger.” Harry’s heart picks up just a little. He’s had a beer or two since his last run in with Nick, and while he’s still feeling a little tongue tied, he also feels looser. Two can play this game.

 

“You’re not looking so bad yourself,” Harry tries. It’s true, Nick’s in some stupid shirt with some famous face printed on it, but he looks tall and touchable in black.

 

“Aw, you flatter me, sugar nugget.” Harry bites his lip at Nick’s words, smiling down. The hand resting on Harry’s face slips a little and before Harry knows what’s happening, Nick’s finger is tugging on Harry’s lip, prying them apart, and slipping inside his mouth.

 

He doesn’t know if it’s because of the last few weeks of hesitant flirting, or the beers he’s had, but Harry makes a small noise of surprise and having no clue what is happening, licks Nick’s finger. Nick’s face changes into something unfamiliar and unrecognizable. Nick shifts, managing to bring his other hand up to brace on Harry’s shoulder and swinging his whole body down the couch, and ends up straddling Harry, legs on either side of Harry’s.

 

Harry’s sitting there, frozen, feeling the beginning of an erection rushing through his body. He is trying desperately not to show a reaction, but he thinks he’s failing. Nick’s finger is still in his mouth and he, either on reflex or some subconscious decision, slurps a little on it, sucking.

 

Nick pulls his finger out with a pop and a thin strand of saliva follows it before it breaks and rests on his lower lip. Then Nick’s mouth is smashing into his, and he’s licking Harry’s lips and inside his mouth. His hands are cradling Harry’s face then moving down to hold Harry’s hips down as Nick presses Harry further into the couch.

 

Harry is completely out of his own control, is drunk on the kiss and responding only by frantically trying to keep up with Nick. He easily rocks back, then leans forward again to chase Nick’s lips as Nick draws back. A quick and muffled groan slips from Nick, and Harry can’t help it, he threads his fingers through Nick’s belt loops and bites down on Nick’s lip. Nick’s own hips buck a little into Harry’s, and Harry can’t keep in his own gasp. As Harry releases Nick’s lip and takes a moment to just breathe, Nick does the same, but doesn’t lean back so he remains only about half an inch from Harry where they already aren’t touching. One of Nick’s hands shifts from his hip to his crotch, presses down lightly on his bulge.

 

Harry’s eyelids flutter and he can’t help the little circle his hips move in, hoping for more pressure. He’s never felt so desperate and he’s never been someone to engage in such... PDA. He’s reminded that they’re on a couch in the middle of a slightly crowded room when a loud group of girls comes through the front door, capturing a little bit of his concentration.

 

Nick’s still panting against Harry’s mouth, and Harry’s hard and knows that he can’t be alone. He’s just... never been with a guy. And while he’s seen porn and takes care of himself often enough, he’s never propositioned anybody before. Since he doesn’t know what to say, he just kisses Nick again. It’s still urgent, he’s tugging Nick’s hips closer-- closer-- and he’s trying to send a message but also contain himself by not scaring Nick by completely assaulting him and pushing him down on the sofa and doing everything he’s ever wanted to.

 

But gone are Grimmy’s innuendo, dry wit, humor, and quick flashes of smile that Harry has been smitten with the last few weeks. He’s caught up in trying to absorb everything: the way Nick’s cologne or body spray is easier to detect this close, how Nick’s got stubble in a five o clock shadow. Nick’s hand comes of Harry’s thigh, grabs his wrist. He’s pulling Harry’s hands off of him, pulling back, breathing hard.

 

Harry’s frown has already formed when Nick’s eyes bore into his. “Babe,” Nick breathes. “God, Harry.” Harry’s still unmoving, feels himself flush in shame and fear that he’s being rejected. He’s never intensely made out with another man on a couch at a party and it’s... it was so good. He didn’t want it to end, and he didn’t think it was unenjoyable at all, he doesn’t know how to move or what to say when Nick tells him they should stop.

 

But Nick doesn’t say they should stop. He’s still holding Harry’s wrist, and he swallows hard. His hair is more rumpled, his lips are a little more red, and he doesn’t look unaffected. “Harry,” Nick says again, before pausing again, catching his breath. “I think unless you’re into putting on a show, I suggest we find somewhere with a door.”

 

It’s an invitation, and Harry can’t speak, can’t tell Nick just how badly his erection needs to be touched or how badly he wants to unzip Nick’s jeans. He just nods, lets Nick pull him off the couch, lead him down a hall and through a door. The room is dark, only a little light shining in from the hallway, and it’s diminished when the door is slammed shut as Nick pushes Harry against it, pulling at his collar now.

 

Harry doesn’t bother quieting himself now, lets out a long moan as Nick’s fingers scrape his abdomen and Nick’s rubbing himself against Harry’s thigh. Harry wants to touch and feel everything he can, see how Nick’s body compares to his imagination. Determined not to just be still, pressed against the door, Harry tugs at the bottom of Nick’s shirt. Nick just throws his hands up, lets Harry pull his shirt off, then isn’t gentle at all as he returns the favor. Nick begins walking backwards, their bare chests touching and feeling hot and cold at the same time to Harry.

 

Nick lets himself fall backwards onto his bed and Harry half trips and falls down on top of him, their legs tangling together. Nick rolls so he is hovering over Harry, leans down and licks his nipple. Harry’s legs come up to wrap around Nick’s waist, but Nick pushes them apart. He is kneeling and scoots backwards to slip Harry’s boots off before tugging off his own Converse, before laying his body over Harry’s once more.

 

Harry doesn’t know what to say or if he should say that this is the first time he’s... whatever’d with a guy. He doesn’t think he’ll have to, at the rate this is going, Nick’s not going to go slow and this may be over before Harry has to worry.

 

Nick’s been touching his tongue to Harry’s but he moves, licks Harry’s neck much like their first encounter at the party. When Nick bites his shoulder, enough for Harry to feel a little pain, he lets out an ungodly noise. His hips come off the bed and his fingers tighten on Nick’s biceps, loves that he’s being pinned down but just wants more now.

 

Nick chuckles a little, draws back to look at Harry. Harry’s eyes are squeezed tight, but fly open when Nick murmurs, “I didn’t know if you’d like that. Gives me ideas, young Harold.” Harry knows that the beers aren’t turning his brain fuzzy at the moment and just stares up at Grimmy, who is looking satisfied and is wearing a smirk.

 

“Pants,” is all he manages. “Um, your’s, and mine, should be--” He stops talking as Nick easily slips off the bed. Harry can’t move, can only lift his head to watch Nick. Nick, who’s slowly (so, so, slowly-- how does he not get embarrassed?) slipping a hand down to unzip his own jeans. He raises an eyebrow, swings his hips to pull the jeans down, tugs off one leg and then the other. He’s pulled his underwear off at the same time, and now for the first time, is standing naked. In front of Harry. His dick is at half-mast and Harry feels himself harden at the sight of it. He swallows when his mouth waters, sees Nick track the movement and scan down his body.

 

Nick walks over to the bed, his cock inches from Harry as he leans over... it nearly brushes Harry’s lips before it’s pulling away and Nick’s pushing a pillow under his head. Harry slips a hand outside his jeans to rub himself, can’t help himself, tips his head back. Nick’s hands soon tangle with his, unzip his jeans. In just a second Harry is stipped to his briefs. There’s a wet spot where he’s been leaking, cock trapped in his pants against his leg. Nick’s tongue darts out and licks the damp fabric, tasting. Harry’s dick twitches and his fingers curl into the sheets on the bed. “Nick...” the name comes out in a high pitch, and Harry doesn’t know what he needs but is just so... He can’t connect his thoughts.

 

Nick however still seems to have a functioning mind, and his smile is dark as he tucks fingers into Harry’s waistband and pulls the briefs away. Harry’s cock bobs up, leaks precome near his belly button. Nick runs his finger over the coarse hair that leads down, down, then runs his fingers up, up, stroking his dick with just one light finger. Harry feels like as soon as Nick wraps a hand around him he’ll come, and doesn’t want to seem so virginal. Instead, he manages to rasp out, “Nick... wanna taste you.” He doesn’t know where it comes from. Nick seems pleased, though.

 

“Yeah, a’ight,” Nick’s murmuring, and is quick to roll Harry on top of him as he leans against the headboard. Harry’s on top now and doesn’t know what he should do, so he kisses Nick before kissing his nipples, his belly button. He doesn’t react when Nick’s hand threads through his hair. Instead, he just draws back and moves down further. He’s ignoring his own dick (or at least trying to) and focuses solely on Nick. He reaches out, squeezes the base of Nick’s cock, feels him growing slightly plumper in his hand, warm. He doesn’t make eye contact, instead licks his hand before reaching back down to pull roughly once, but stops. He looks around the dark room, spies the bedside table. On a hunch he opens the drawer-- and bingo, there’s lube.

 

He rubs a little onto his hand-- it smells sweet, like some artificial fruit flavoring. He rubs his hands together to try and warm the gel before reaching down to fully envelop Nick. Nick’s reacting now, can’t help but move. Harry is stroking steadily, lets himself play with the head, before taking away all pressure. He wipes his hands on Nick’s sheets (oh well) and licks one of his own fingers, trying to put on his own show. He feels foolish but it’s worth it when Nick just stares, watching Harry’s tongue lick up leftover lube-- it is flavored, after all (not that it tastes good. Eh.).

  
Harry is uncomfortably aware that he’s never given a blowjob, and before he can contemplate it further, Nick’s surging up. He’s attacking Harry’s mouth, tasting fake strawberry on Harry’s lips. Harry falls backwards, barely missing falling off the bed. Somehow Grimmy manages to maneuver them so Harry has the pillow again and then cold lube is being drizzled all over Harry’s cock.

 

His eyes are shut again as out of nowhere, Nick’s reaching down to cover what doesn’t fit in his mouth. There are no cute little licks, half-hearted strokes, no kisses. It’s just Nick, letting Harry’s dick poke into his cheek and providing enough suction to create an intense, tight pressure. Harry’s noises aren’t words but something more like grunts. He pulls-- hard-- on Nick’s hair, trying to warn him. Nick pops off for a second, precome on his chin. “You ready?”

 

Harry doesn’t answer but his back arches, come spurts onto Nick’s face, and he rides it out as Nick crawls up to settle against him. When he opens his eyes, Nick is casually wiping come off his face. “Want a taste?” Harry’s only tasted himself once, out of curiosity, but he leans forward and licks obediently at Nick’s hand and fingers. He reaches over, pulls on Nick who is still slightly sticky from the lube Harry applied earlier. As he sucks hard on three of Nick’s fingers, he lets one of his hands twist around Nick’s base and lets his other hand quickly jack the head. Nick must have been just as wanting as Harry, because he comes quickly once Harry releases Nick’s fingers and licks his lips. The clock on the nightstand reads 11:49, and Harry realizes he’s officially had his first blowjob. And now has no idea what to do. Grimmy is still for a moment, then swinging his legs out of bed. He uses his discarded boxers to wipe himself off, throws them in a hamper. Then he’s putting on a new pair and slipping back into his jeans.

 

“Well, thank you Harry,” he’s saying as he crosses over to the bed. He smacks a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “Feel free to stay, I’ll be back.”

 

Harry stares from the bed as Nick slips easily back into his shirt, grins at Harry, and then disappears quietly out the door. Harry’s recovering from the sleepy post-orgasm feeling because of the new feeling settling in him. There’s a ball wound up in his stomach, a weight on his shoulders and in his throat. His fingers are still a little sticky and he feels gross, a little used. He’d try and find a shower but the party is still in full swing, and the only reason this room was free probably is because it belongs to Nick.

 

He’s all alone now, and now that he has a chance to reflect on what happened, he’s having mixed feelings. He was definitely into it while it was happening, but that wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Casual sex is alright, for other people. Harry’s never been tempted before to just hook up, get off, and move on. Or at least he hasn’t with a guy. And he’s never hooked up with anybody he didn’t have some sort of relationship with.

 

He actually liked Nick, wanted to get to know him better. He wanted to treat Nick to dinner or see Nick make some other effort than just dragging Harry to a bedroom.

 

Just as he’s mentally berating himself for being so stupid, for letting himself let his first time with a guy be so casual, and not even with a fun stranger for the experience but someone he should’ve gotten to know better first, the bedroom door is opening. Nick comes in backwards, not letting the door stay open and passerby in the hallway see in. Harry’s briefly thankful because of his naked state, but out of habit is reaching for a sheet to cover himself.

 

He has a brief moment of confusion about what is happening now but then Nick’s setting whatever was in his arms onto the ground and slipping his clothes off again. He’s been gone about ten minutes and once he’s naked again, he’s carelessly flinging himself and his goodies onto the bed and stealing Harry’s sheet.

 

Nick’s actually holding a box, which is poking Harry in the ribs. Harry reaches under the sheet to grab it, utterly confused, and his expression changes to amusement as he finds himself holding a box of PopTarts. Harry’s starting to laugh, and Nick starts as well as he holds a bag of Milanos in one hand and Goldfish in the other.

 

“I brought sustenance,” Nick’s grinning, and Harry’s feeling a little better. He hesitantly takes the cookies from Nick and opens the package, takes two out. He eats one and sticks the other in Nick’s face to feed it to him. They’re getting crumbs absolutely everywhere, but Nick doesn’t seem to care.

 

Harry’s catching strains Get Lucky from the party, and blushes faintly. It’s after midnight now, and he’s unversed in the etiquette of hook-ups. Grimmy also has retrieved a bottle of champagne, and offers Harry a sip. Harry takes the bottle and drinks before offering it back to Nick. Nick, who is smiling at him and melting the ugly fears of regret that had been settling into Harry’s bones.

 

He isn’t sure if he should say anything. The one regret he does have is not bothering to check what this meant to Nick before jumping into this, but that goes both ways. Nick wasn’t asking either before he kissed Harry and made it impossible for Harry to focus.

 

Nick’s hand is reaching out, but he doesn’t take the bottle. He reaches up, and with a gentle swipe, uses his thumb to wipe the corner of Harry’s mouth. “You got some chocolate there, Green Eyes.” Harry’s lips curve into an automatic smile as he reaches up to catch Nick’s hand.

 

“Green Eyes?” Harry smirks at Nick. He’s playing it cool, he’s decided. If this was a one-time thing for Nick, then at least Harry got a pretty stellar night out of it. If Nick wants to maybe hook up again, alright, because again, Harry will probably have a good time. He might even become friends with Nick, which is what he’s been trying to do all along. And if something else happens, something that Harry is trying not to focus on like a sixteen year old girl with an infatuation problem, then... great. Just great, because more happy experiences. There is no downside to any of this, Harry decides.

 

Harry’s brought back to the conversation when Nick doesn’t say anything right away. The silence isn’t uncomfortable, but Harry’s left waiting. “First thing I noticed about you,” is what Grimmy ends up saying in a soft voice.

 

It’s sweet and it’s possibly the one thing Harry wanted  to hear most. He feels his jaw drop a little, because no way on God’s green earth did he honestly expect it to be this way. What guy manages to find an attractive man, who is interested in other men, particularly those men who have virtually no experience, that end up hooking up at a party but then actually develop a real relationship? Uh, nobody... except Harry apparently. Maybe. If that’s where Nick is going?

 

Nick continues. “You know, every time I talk to you, you blush or run away. I’ve been trying to get to know you for like, a month, you know that, Harold?” His voice is light, like he could be joking, but his face is serious. “I asked Liam to get you here tonight, but I, ahem, didn’t exactly anticipate this.” His smile turns into a lewd grin. “I think when you sucked my finger I just couldn’t help it.”

 

Harry’s still absorbing this. He’s feels so happy, as if he’s drank the whole bottle of bubbly, and he feels drunk on the fact that Nick just came out with that. He has a brief thought of “Nobody actually says that!” mixed with embarrassment about how he’s sort of been a chicken about hitting on guys or letting them hit on him. He feels a bit scandalous when Nick brings up the finger sucking incident. He has a vague, passing thought about what he’ll tell Niall. It’s almost guaranteed that Niall will know what happens within the next twelve hours, and Harry doesn’t know if he won’t be surprised or if he’ll be happy or what. Niall can be a little hard to read, easily switching from light-heartedness to seriousness.

 

Then Nick’s kissing him again and he’s clutching the bottle of champagne between them in one hand, carding his other hand through Nick’s swoopy hair, kissing back, not afraid now. He’s leaning in, pushing Nick back, further...

   

Much like their first kiss, Nick breaks away first. But they’re only disconnected for a few seconds, long enough for their impromptu picnic to be swept off the bed and safely onto the floor, before Nick’s back. He drags Harry onto his lap and Harry’s got Nick’s face in his hands while Nick’s hands drop beneath his waist.

   

For a moment, Harry feels frozen. He knows he’ll remember this feeling forever: the weight of hands above the curve in his backside, the way Nick’s skin is a little damp under his fingers, and the strains of Ellie Goulding filtering into the room. It’s still top forty tunes, so it’s actually “I Need You Love” right now, which Harry finds... appropriate. Harry kisses Nick until his lips feel numb, until he’s so sleepy that he’s basically sprawled out with just his cheek resting on Grimmy’s chest. He falls asleep with a hand rubbing his back, which is honestly the best feeling Harry could imagine at this moment.

 

===

 

   

Harry wakes up when Nick’s sliding out of bed. Nick’s trying to be quiet, so Harry stays still. With one eye half open, he watches through his hair as Nick tugs on pants and a shirt, straightens the room a little. He sees him dig around a desk for a pen, paper and come up with a bright green sticky note pad. Harry shuts his eyes again, feigning sleep, as Nick turns around with a written note. Harry hears Nick stick the note on the table before ducking back out to the hallway and who knows where.

   

In his sleepiness, he accidentally dozes off again, wakes up maybe half an hour later (truly amazing what that amount of time can do). He does need a moment to remember where he’s at and why, but hey... he’s not a morning person. When he remembers, he’s slipping as even tangled up in a sheet, he tries to get to the note on the bedside table.

 

It reads:

 

_Harold, I had an excellent time with you. I’d love to be there when you read this, but I’ve got to get to the station. Feel free to stop by? There is breakfast of whatever you find in the room or kitchen._

 

It’s signed with “Nick” and a number, which Harry programs into his phone, which he finds tucked into a pocket of his jeans (which are mysteriously inside out). When Harry unlocks his phone, he sees a text from Liam: _“i missed but heard about a kiss between grims and a curly haired lad u wouldnt know anything bout that would u?”_ and all he can do is bite a lip. _“like you didnt know he wanted me to come to this party you prick”_ is what he sends back, then a quick “ _:)_ ” because if you don’t include emoticons these days people assume you’re being unfriendly.

 

He gets dressed, feeling a little crusty, and makes his way through the house in search of the front door. It’s where he remembers, but the house seems bigger now that it’s empty other than the full trashcans and a random girl sleeping on the couch.

  
Harry makes it back to his dorm and showers, blissfully scrubbing away the smell of champagne and sweat off his skin. When he’s dressed once more, he opens up his messaging app again. He sees another new text ( _“well i dont think u can be mad at me if what i think happened happend”_ ), but opens up a new message for Nick. _“Hey radio boy”_ is all he sends. He gets a reply in five minutes. _“Haroldarry, is that you!? :P_ ” and Harry breaks a cardinal emoticon rule of never sending his least favorite smiley. “ _;)_ ”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feel free to let me know what you think-- next chapter within 2 weeks ish maybe? I promise you'll actually see the other half of the pair quickly enough ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry finds his calling, everybody gets jobs, and Harry takes his dog to a park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry's uni years and a bit beyond. I spent less time than I thought on some of the character development for Niall (oops) (he was supposed to be a blogger turned publisher hmm guess not anymore). I promise this is the last of the Nick/Harry, more plot is revealed.

Niall comes in as Harry’s receiving another text, _“I see you got my note. You should come by if you feel like”_.

 

Harry’s face must read like a book, because Niall’s already laughing. (He seems to laugh at Harry a lot. Oh well, Harry’s still friends with him anyway.) “What’s the dopey smile for? Oh, wait... Better question, where were you all night?”

 

Harry immediately pinks up. “None of your business, Nialler. Even better question, how was your date?”

 

Niall glares. “Wasn’t a date.” His voice turns sly. “And I actually wasn’t here all night either... just a lucky guess that you weren’t, either. Thanks for proving it.”

 

Harry groans. “Don’t be a dick about this, please.”

 

Niall shrugs. “‘Kay,” he says easily. “Just hope you had a good time,” and the smile in his voice comes through his words.

 

“I did. Now if you don’t mind hearing _all_ the gossip later, I’ve got to go. I’m meeting Nick at the station.” Niall wiggles his eyebrows at this, and Harry just rolls his eyes at Niall while letting himself out the door.

 

_“On my way. send help if im not there in ten, being interrogated by nosy room mate”_

 

Harry’s walking down the hall with his eyes glued on his phone. _“haha okay see you in a few”_

When he gets to the station, Nick’s in one of the two recording rooms. He’s doing the morning’s live show at the moment, and he winks at Harry through the window. Harry slips into the booth that adjoins the room. Nick has all the controls he needs in the room, but Harry can listen on the intercom in the booth to hear what he’s saying. “And next up, we’ve got the latest Drake. Enjoy!”

 

Nick’s pausing his recording and then getting up to greet Harry. He comes into the small booth and Harry smirks as Nick’s eyes travel up and down his body. Nick leans against the doorjamb and folds his arms in front of his chest. “Hiya, Harold.”

 

“Hey,” is Harry’s suave answer.

 

“What’s this I hear about a nosy roommate?” Nick asks.

 

“‘S just my friend Niall. He was supposed to come, but backed out, remember? He, uh, may have figured out that I didn’t come home last night. And. Well. Yeah.”

 

Nick’s smirk is growing and Harry smiles a little at him. “You weren’t upset I wasn’t there this morning, were you?” His smirk is replaced by a look of faint concern.

 

“No, it’s good. I know you had the show,” Harry says with a flick of his hand at the recording room. _I know exactly who you could be_ , Drake sings. _It’s hard to do these things alone..._

 

Nick nods, looks happier. “I was wondering if maybe you’d want to get lunch after? The show ends at twelve, and then we could go eat.”

 

“Yeah, I’d like that.” Warm feelings are tingling up Harry’s arms and he can feel his smile stretching.

 

Nick’s own smile turns into a grin. “What would you say about coming on the show till then?”

 

Harry’s eyes widen. “Really?” When Nick nods, he just blinks. “But I’ve got no idea what I’m doing,” he says.

 

“It’s easy. You just sit there. And we’ll chat and talk about the music we’re playing, and that’s really it. You work here, you know what to do,” Nick assures him.

 

Harry lets himself be led into the rec room. Nick puts a finger over his lips, points at a stool. Harry sinks down onto one and Nick sits next to him at the desk. Nick presses a few buttons and then turns to Harry. “Okay, we’ll be able to be heard in about a minute when this song’s over. There’s nothing set to come on after, this is all live. I’ll introduce you first, okay?” Harry nods again. “We could talk about your project. I’ll introduce you as the brains behind the operation and we’ll go from there. You’ll be fine.”

 

Before Harry feels like he’s ready, Hold On, We’re Going Home fades out. Nick’s speaking at a microphone now. “And hello again, you’re tuned to Collegiate Radio, I’m Nick. I’ll be hosting until 12 and I’ve just played you Drake’s Hold On, We’re Going Home. Now, as I’ve been mentioning here and there, ColRadio is gonna be featuring a new night time program that won’t be music or talking, but a show. I’ve got the mind behind the idea with me on air right now-- say hi, Harry!”

 

Harry smiles shyly at Nick. “Hi, Harry!” he chirps out.

 

“Very funny, Harold,” Nick’s throwing back. “Now, why don’t you tell us about yourself?”

 

“I’m Harry, I’m a sophomore, and... I wrote the script for the murder mystery drama that’ll air sometime soon. Next semester after Christmas hols, probably.”

 

“Fantastic!” Nick’s saying. Harry can’t believe he’s on air right now-- underclassmen never get to do this, and he’s pretty sure this would be classified as “special treatment.” He doesn’t really care though. “Harry, why don’t you dish us out a song?” Nick’s shooting him a look. He points to a screen, and Harry can see a song’s title and artist scrolling by.

 

“Okay, sure,” Harry tells Nick, and smoothly reads off the screen. “Why don’t we play Paramore’s Still Into You?”

 

“Absolutely, Harold,” Nick drawls, and clicks a button on the screen. The song starts and Nick presses a few more things and then swivels back to Harry. “You can pick your own songs, I just didn’t want to put you on the spot.”

 

“Sounds good.”

 

For the next two hours, Harry and Nick banter easily on air. Between the two of them, there is a mix of alternative music and pure pop, and by the time it’s 11:55, Harry’s not even bored. He doesn’t think he’s laughed that hard in a while, because he and Nick had started taking calls from listeners and talking to them. Nick lines up the last song (Harry’s pick of Somebody Told Me by The Killers) and the two of them exit the recording room to make room for the next host.

 

Harry’s wrapping himself into his jacket while Nick holds the door for him. “Breakfast Bar, back to mine, or a dining hall...?” Nick trails off in question to Harry.

 

“Your’s is fine,” Harry says and bites his lip. He lets Nick slip an arm through his and they turn towards Nick’s off-campus house.

 

===

 

Harry and Nick had make lunch together (well, they microwave a bag of popcorn...) and plunk onto the couch to watch Bridesmaids (Harry wouldn’t admit it for a second, but the movie is NOT just for women. It’s actually funny.).

 

Nick and Harry only talk, figuring out more things about each other. Harry was still remembering what Nick had told him last night-- that he had been trying to get to know him-- and so easily shares whatever Nick wants to know. They discuss their families and dream jobs. Nick talks about Rolle, and Harry tells funny stories about his pre-law professors. “Why did you change your mind?” Nick eventually asks.

 

Harry stills on the couch for a second, thinking. “Freshman year, the pre-law... it was all good. Great, really, I mean I was good at it and... but I want to enjoy life. I don’t want to live, looking forward only to weekends. I had these dreams, you know? About all the impractical things in life. And I figured if anybody could try to make it work, it’d be me. So I on an impulse changed my entire schedule and here I am. I mean, I have these doubts sometimes...” Harry’s voice is slow and deep in the house. Nick and Harry seem to be the only ones home, and it’s quiet as Nick just listens. “But I really like what I’m doing. I’m loving journalism,” he says, which earns a grin from Nick.

 

===

 

Harry makes it back to the dorm at five, pizza box tucked under his arm. Niall’s actually not alone-- when Harry unlocks the door, he’s surprised to see Liam on Niall’s bed. They’re sitting next to each other, and Niall’s pointing at his laptop screen.

 

Harry drops himself down next to Niall and opens the box of pizza, offering to both his friends. He’s surprised again when he looks at Niall’s laptop and sees his script.

 

“I emailed it to him,” Liam says, a note of apology in his voice. “I hope you don’t mind?”

 

Harry waves it off. “He’d see it anyway. Pizza?”

 

Liam reaches out for a slice and smiles at Harry, reassured that he isn’t mad. “So Niall tells me that you actually stayed at my place last night?” Liam’s got an unfamiliar look on his face and Harry glares at Niall when he recognizes it as mischievousness.

 

“‘S not like he didn’t know, mate,” Niall laughs. “He knew more than I did, actually. We were just discussing the rumor he heard about you and a certain Grimshaw and a couch, so I generously shared my intel about your comings-” he fucking giggles “-and goings.”

Even Harry has to smile at that. “Fuck off,” he says good-naturedly. “Eat your pizza.” He leaves the box on Niall’s bed before grabbing one more piece and scooching off Niall’s bed in favor for his own.

 

He pops his own laptop open and returns to the document he opened last night. He doesn’t read any of it, just hits enter a few times to create a page break. He starts his writing slow again. He writes down a few of the things he and Nick talked about, wrote down a few of the songs he chose for the radio. He journals how it felt to give his first ever broadcast on air.

 

He types until Craig from down the hall invites the room to play a floor-wide Assassin’s Creed tournament. He closes the document and leaves with Niall and Liam.

 

===

 

A month later, and it’s halfway through December. The first semester of his sophomore year is finished, finals are done, and Harry’s packed up to return home. He and Nick have gone out a few times-- they grab food after Harry’s radio shifts, they meet with the drama kids who’ll be reading Harry’s script, Nick takes Harry to a club twice, and they generally have a good time together. Harry’s over his initial shyness with Nick.

 

After the first night with him, when Nick came back to bed and fell asleep with a hand on Harry’s back, Harry’s let himself be complimented by Nick. He’s shared things with Nick, finds out more about Nick than what his radio personality reveals. Nick still comes into journalism every now and then and mouths things at Harry during his lectures. The time sweeps away quickly and soon it’s time for hols. Nick and Harry are leaving on evening trains, and they’re at Nick’s house with Liam, chilling before they all have to go.

 

Nick’s head is on Harry’s shoulder and Harry’s running his fingers up and down Nick’s arm. They three have been sitting quietly, talking and recounting family Christmas traditions.When Liam gets up to go to get a bag from his room, Nick tilts his head up to Harry’s ear.

 

“Are we... Will you...”

 

Harry looks down to meet Nick’s eyes.

 

“Are we dating? I mean, like, exclusively,” Nick clarifies.

 

Harry bites a lip. “Yes?” It’s what he wants. He’s pretty sure that Nick wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want the same, but... Ever present doubt.

 

Before Harry can say more, backtrack to take it all back if he senses Nick disagreeing, Nick’s pulling Harry down to kiss him. Harry’s running his tongue against Nick’s, and Nick’s hands are fumbling at Harry’s thighs when Liam clears his throat. “Ahem.” Harry makes a noise, tries to pull away and apologize to Liam, but Nick’s waving at Liam. Nick’s already half-slouched and is moving to be lie down, pulling at Harry to lie on top of him.

 

Liam makes a disgruntled noise and Harry can faintly hear the front door close over the rushing of blood in his ears. He’s panting against Nick, feels Nick’s hands squeezing his ass, and they’re shamelessly rutting against each other now. Harry can’t pull away to talk to Nick, but actions sometimes speak louder than words.

 

Nick’s gasps are jagged and short as Harry unzips Nick’s jeans. He lifts his body only long enough to get out of his own pants as least gracefully as possible before collapsing again on Nick. He can’t think if Nick’s uncomfortable, lets out a long groan when Nick reaches down to palm the both of them together.

 

Nick’s other hand reaches for one of Harry’s, brings it between them. Harry’s got one hand on the couch to support himself, and one of Nick’s squeezing his shoulder tightly. Harry’s second hand is grasping himself against Nick, and Nick’s got a hand overtop Harry’s, guiding him. Their hands move together, and it hurts before Nick pulls Harry’s hand to his mouth to kiss each of his fingers and then lick the length of his palm.

 

They don’t talk, only kiss messily as they draw closer to the edge. When Harry comes, Nick’s moan is muffled because he’s biting Harry’s shoulder and then he starts to shake with his own release.

 

For a minute or two they lie together on the couch, pants only down far enough to get off as quickly as possible out of desperation. “‘M sorry,” Nick says breathily. “Not normally... like that...”

 

Harry kisses him softly. “Don’t apologize,” he whispers. “I think we only need to apologize to Liam.”

 

Nick groans again and chuckles. “He’ll never forgive me.”

 

Harry giggles too before rolling off Nick to fetch them tissues.

 

===

 

After Christmas, Nick and Liam start their internships with Rolle. Harry sees less of his friends and spends more time writing. He’s got a tentative major set in journalism, and he’s started a new script because his radio project turned out to grab a lot of attention, which Harry thanks the drama students’ talents for.

 

It’s February soon and Harry and Nick have been together for three months. Harry finds himself as a part time co-host with Nick on Saturday morning. Liam and Niall are now close friends, Harry considers Liam a best friend, and Harry spends half his time at Liam and Nick’s place.

 

March passes, and in the beginning of April they’re curled up on the couch that has seen too much action for Liam’s liking when Nick tells Harry that he’s been offered a full-time position with Rolle upon his graduation.

 

“That’s terrific,” Harry’s voice if full of enthusiasm and pride. “We should go out, celebrate.” Even as he says it, he hopes Nick would rather stay home with just Harry or invite people over for a campfire. Nick’s success means so much to him, but it also makes Harry feel once again like he’s not good at anything. He’s only good at noticing things, studying.

 

Nick’s not smiling though. “They want me to move to their London headquarters.”

 

Harry’s smile falls. “That’s three hours...” he starts, but steels himself. “You should take it. It’s fucking Rolle, you need to take it or I’ll slap you right now.”

 

Harry doesn’t know if he sounds convincing or not, and Nick’s just looking at him. “If I go, you know that...”

 

Harry just nods, lets Nick pull him close. _Yes_ , he thinks. _He knows._ He knows that Nick won’t come back often. He knows he won’t be able to travel to London to see Nick all the time. He know Nick will be wrapped up in his new job and building his career, sans Harry. He knows all these things, and it fucking hurts.

 

Harry’s plan is crumbling around him. He should’ve stayed with fucking law. Instead he’s sitting on the couch of the boy he started to fall for from day one of Journalism 101, the boy who brought him a bag of cookies in bed after sex, the first boy who ever sucked Harry off, the first boy Harry ever sucked off. The boy that made Harry feel like if he could have him, he could have his plan. The boy who can’t keep Harry or let himself be kept.

 

He tries not to cry as Nick rubs circles into his back, Harry tucked into Nick’s shoulder. Harry can’t take it though, can’t take Nick being nice right now. They’re finished basically, and Harry doesn’t want to hold onto this longer. Can’t dwell on it. He shoves Nick away, trips to the front door.

 

Nick follows him up but Harry picks up speed as he walks down the road towards campus. Nick doesn’t catch up to him and five minutes later, Harry’s safely ensconced in a bedsheet cocoon. He lets himself cry into his pillow, wishing Niall were here.

 

Nick must’ve texted somebody though, because Niall’s there almost as soon as Harry can wish it. He doesn’t say anything, lets Harry sniffle all over his Hollister.

 

“He’s leaving.” Niall nods. “Did you know?” Niall shakes his head. Harry’s voice is a little shuddery. “He... he got a job. In London.” His breath hitches. “‘S not a problem,” he hiccups. “I don’t care. I knew we... Nobody who hooks up-- before even-- a date lasts.” His eyes are watery and his cheeks are flushed and he just can’t even...

  
“Have you talked about it?” Niall’s voice is soothing.

 

“Just... happened.”

 

“Just tell me what happened, mate,” Niall encourages. “From the beginning, okay?”

 

Harry looks at Niall. “You know I liked Nick. And then the two parties... we first talked to each other at the first one, and we hooked up at the second one, and then we’d just been hanging out. And before Christmas made it official or whatever.” Harry has to pause again and runs his sleeve under his eyes, blinks while looking up. “And we were good, and then he basically was just sitting with me on the couch, and I was just thinking about how fuckin’ happy I am because hey look, I wrote Grimmy into my plans and look how well it worked out.” Harry’s speaking faster and faster. “And then out of the blue he just says he’s got this job waiting in London, and he’s like not really asking me if he should go? It’s obvious he’s gonna, and three hours, and then he said I’d know what’d happen, and then he was being so nice and I get it, but I just needed a second away from him because yes I fucking get it but it doesn’t mean it’s not painful and I couldn’t fucking deal, okay?”

 

Niall’s eyes are wide, and he’s staring at Harry. He isn’t saying anything, and Harry just sinks back against his pillow. “Can you pass me my laptop, please?” Harry’s voice is defeated.

 

Niall wordlessly passes him the computer, takes out his phone, taps. “Li’s coming over.” Harry just nods and rests his arms on top of his laptop on his chest, like a security blanket.

 

===

 

Twenty minutes later when Liam knocks on the dorm door, Niall lets him in. “He hasn’t moved for like, half an hour.”

 

Liam takes in Harry’s blank face and the way he’s cradling the laptop. “I brought black and white cookies from the Bar.”

 

Harry reaches his arm out to the side of the bed so Liam can put one in his hand and then eats it mechanically.

 

Niall and Liam resume their quiet conversation. “I didn’t know Nick was going to tell him,” Liam’s saying. “He only told me this morning, and I thought... well, I guess I did realize Nick was going to tell him. But, like, he and Harry... Are they broken up? They seemed like they’d be okay for this,” Liam asks Niall.

 

“I think Harry made it sound like Nick was just going to go, and that he was breaking up with him before he left. And Harry said he understood and then fled here.”

 

Liam gasps. “What the fuck? Nick told me he was gonna ask Harry to do the distance thing,” Liam whispers to Niall.

 

Harry sits up abruptly. “He only...” Liam and Nick both turn to look at Harry. “He said, like, ‘Did I know what would happen if he left?’ and then I thought, well, yeah, you’ll leave and then we’ll fail at the long distance thing. And so we’re over. I’m fine, you know.”

 

Niall and Liam exchanged a worried look. “Seriously. Fine,” Harry insists.

 

“They’ve got to talk to each other,” Liam tells Niall.

 

===

 

In fifteen minutes, Nick’s joined the party in the dorm room. Liam and Niall wouldn’t let Harry leave until Nick arrived, and once they let him in, they sat just down the hall so they could secretly spy and make sure Harry didn’t leave in a huff.

 

Nick sits on Niall’s bed. Harry’s grateful for the privacy. “So,” he starts. He makes eye contact with Nick.

 

“I love you.” Nick’s eyes widen impossibly at Harry’s words. Harry hates this. “And I can’t come with you. And you can’t stay. So we’re going to be apart,” Harry outlines.

 

“Yeah, but I just wanted you to know what that meant,” Nick cuts in. “I just wanted you to know that I’d be willing to travel, or Skype, or whatever. I don’t want to just lose what we have for this job. This job isn’t everything for me.”

 

“Yeah, but I also know what’s gonna happen,” Harry says, sadly. “It’d work until it just didn’t. I love you Nick, and I’ve loved what’s happened. I’ve had so much fun in the last five months and I... I just think that... we’re not permanent.” Now it’s Nick’s turn to wipe under his eyes, pretend his eyes aren’t watering. “There is something so incredible about you, and us together. But can you honestly see us making it out of our twenties together? You’re gonna do big shit at Rolle, or wherever, Nick. I’m... just not.”

 

Nick nods. He gets up to climb into Harry’s bed. “I’ll miss you so much.” Harry bites his lip. “And I love you, too.” Nick leans in to press a kiss to Harry’s temple. “Thanks.” It’s all pretty bittersweet.

 

“I just think... I love you, but I can’t keep you. I don’t think I’d always love you?” Harry hopes that Nick understands that Harry isn’t being harsh. He just... is trying to get out of this with the least amount of pain possible. This is the first time he’s told Nick he loves him, and it’s also the day that they’re leaving each other.

 

“I get it, Harold darling.” Nick’s cupping Harry’s cheek. They’re both crying a little, but it’s more cathartic now. Harry had gotten his space, and reflected, and it’ll all be okay. (When it doesn’t sting. It’s okay when Harry doesn’t think about how Nick makes him laugh and smile and look forward to cookies in bed and all the nuances of Nick that he’s discovered.) (And then it hurts less when Harry thinks about how fleeting this always was, from the beginning he and Nick burned bright but fast.)

 

Nick slips off the bed, looks back. “I’m just... don’t hold yourself back, ‘kay? I see what you’re doing here. You think that you’re letting me go, and I know you don’t love me in the way that you need to keep me. But just... don’t hold yourself back. Because you can think as much as you want that you’re doing this for me, and that I’m going to do great things or whatever, but so are you. So. Are. You,” he repeats, and he’s never sounded firmer.

 

Within seconds Harry’s vaulted out of the bed, is clinging to Nick. They stand like that, Nick’s arms wrapped around Harry, before Harry lets go and steps back. Harry smiles up at Nick, Nick nods and smiles back, and then he’s gone.

 

===

 

Harry goes home for the summer a month later. He gets together with some of this old friends, gets two jobs and split his time between the bakery and the newspaper office. At the newspaper office, he’s only transferring old files to newer digital drives, so the work is time consuming and isn’t giving him that many opportunities to write.

 

He keeps in touch. Niall has promised to stop by and visit for a week, and Harry texts Nick to ask how the new job is going. He also meets Liam in London for lunch one day and spends a week with him. He sees Nick while he’s there, and he survives. It’s all fine, he and Nick are still friends. Harry thinks that they’ll always love each other, and he’s glad they’re not bitter.

 

He keeps writing, because he know he won’t be able to at the newspaper and he wants to keep in the habit for next year.

 

He revisits his short story radio program and writes a third installment for ColRadio, even though Nick won’t be there upon his return. Harry will be a junior, and is still planning on a journalism degree. Maybe. He signs up for a Jazz Dance class to count as an “exercise credit” and decides to join intramural football. It’ll be co-ed and non-competitive, so Harry won’t fail too miserably. It’ll be fun.

 

He also goes back to the document he started when he journaled for the first time. He cuts out his biography, writes from a different perspective, gives the characters more attitude and meaning and depth. Before he realizes what’s happened, he’s basically written a novel. About? Well, a lot about his life and experiences, but mostly other people’s. He writes what he sees, what he knows about other people. He absolutely, one hundred percent, does not write about himself. Sort of.

 

The trouble begins the week that Niall visits. He asks to borrow Harry’s laptop just for a bit, to check if he can get to something on his google drive because his own hard drive had burnt up or something.

 

Harry passes it over without a thought. Then, a few days after, Niall’s cornering him in the kitchen. “What’s Measuring Days?”

 

Harry freezes. Five seconds later, he jumps when the PopTart he was toasting springs up. “‘S nothing.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Niall.”

 

“Eat your fuggin’ PopTart, and sit down.”

 

Harry obeys for his safety. Niall’s brandishing his laptop and he really doesn’t want it dropped.

 

“I was on your laptop and had to log you out of your account to get into my own google drive,” Niall says. “And I was closing one of your tabs but some of the words caught me and I ended up starting to read one of your docs. Named Measuring Days. And you know what, Harry?”

 

Harry bites into the second pastry, disregarding the fact that it’s still too hot to eat. He doesn’t want to talk.

 

“I thought it was supposed to be one of your radio things. That’s the folder it was under, you know.”

 

Harry makes himself seem very interested in the icing on his breakfast, but it doesn’t stop Niall. “You wrote a fuckin’ book and didn’t tell me, you dick!”

 

Harry just looks at his friend. “It wasn’t meant to be a book.”

 

“It’s about your murder mystery. And Nick. And Liam, actually. And me. And Prof Thomas, and that kid who always plays his guitar outside the dining hall.”

 

“Uh...”

 

“Do you even know where I’m working this summer? Or what I do?” Niall asks, flustered.

 

“No?” Harry sort of feels like a bad friend, but he has asked Niall before. He only understood that he was doing marketing of some sort... or something... with advertising?

 

“I’ve got an advertising thing, but one of our clients’ is Peak Publishing.”

 

“And?”

 

“And... you could publish this.”

 

Harry rolls his eyes. “Let me enjoy my PopTart in piece. I’ve got to be at the bakery in forty minutes.”

 

“I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t mean it, H. It’s well written and developed, I think you just need someone who knows what they’re doing to edit and shit. And I’ll market the hell outta this. People would eat this up, Harry.”

 

“Doubtful.”

 

“Harry, shut up and let me print it. If I can get someone to look at it, would you let me? Like, if nothing happens, no harm done. If not... no harm done and you’ll at least get a bit of royalties and you’ll have some sort of affirmation of your skill-- because we both know you don’t think your writing is good enough. But seriously, what you know about law blends in so well! And I think this turned out so well,” Niall continues, tries to bargain.

 

Harry takes a moment to think about it. “What the hell.”

 

===

 

A year later, Harry’s book is being launched. He’s just finished his third year of uni. He’s writing for the uni paper and he’s presenting the saturday morning slot of ColRadio, the one he shared two years ago with Nick. He’s added so many random classes to his repertoire (a class on houseplants, a class on accounting), but a few like criminal justice may be useful in the long run if the book does well.

 

“If the book does well.” Harry never thought he’d need to think that phrase. Sure, writing was always some sort of therapy for him, and it was what he turned to when he couldn’t get his shit together.

 

Niall, in fact, had known what he was talking about. He had known the right people and somehow, a publisher started corresponding with Harry. Harry may have flipped out just a tiny bit when he found out that Niall’s connections were paying off, then snapped back to reality and started working on the book in earnest.

 

Things were tweaked, edited, revised, changed, altered forever-- some of it felt foreign to Harry, but he realized it was still all his. And this summer, it would be out there. For the world (the world!) to see.

 

When Harry thinks back to his past self, he can only laugh. He was so confused back then-- him and his plans. (Who is he kidding, he still makes them. They’re just really different now.) Gone is the plan to be a lawyer, at least. His career in radio is actually doing okay, if he wanted to he could probably get a job at a small town show. Funny, because that was one thing that wasn’t in the plans. Nick was in the plans, radio wasn’t. His plans for journalism have veered slightly-- he had planned on taking a bunch of fun, random classes. Then he fell for writing. And now he has a fucking book.

 

So, if the book does well, then Harry might take his journalism major and end up being an author, instead of a journalist.

 

It’s pretty surreal.

 

Niall’s been great through everything. Other than Harry’s publisher, he’s been the main contact between Harry and the publishing house. He’s organized all the meetings and arranged the royalties and copyrights and other legalities (Harry thinks he hired a lawyer...). He’s already Harry’s agent, which is good for both of them because they still each have a year of uni left. Neither expect much because it’s Harry’s first book and he is known by absolutely nobody, so hopefully neither one will have much to do so they can stay in school.

 

===

 

It’s now November of his senior year. The book has been out for three months. Harry published it under Harold Styles-- half pen name, half... keeping part of himself private? And half to say goodbye to Nick.

 

The Collegiate Radio actually does a segment on the book. It starts when the radio features the book in it’s book club program, because it was based on the murder/mystery drama that Harry wrote for ColRadio.

 

Then the radio decides they want to interview the author, since he is a college student attending their school, regardless of the fact that he hosts the show every Saturday anyway.

 

Then, when he goes home for Christmas, his mother has a copy on her coffee table. “I’m so proud of you,” she says, cupping his cheeks after hugging him welcome.

 

Harry mainly brushes off all the cheers and praise from all his old friends and acquaintances, smiling good-naturedly when they tell him how impressed they are or how much they enjoyed his book.

 

===

 

It’s nearing April when Niall calls. “I think... I think we’re going to be rich.” Harry’s quite surprised. Sure, his book didn’t completely fail. Just... the attention he’s received has been local, from his family.

 

“So, Ellen DeGeneres wants to have you on her show? Because like, you’re young and fresh, but also because you published a novel while still in college, and like, it’s actually decent. Something about how it’s half ordinary mystery novel, half self-realization or something, I can’t remember...”

 

After that, Harry sort of blanks out. Niall trails off, asks if he’s okay. “Hm,” is the best, neutral answer he can give. Ellen. DeGeneres. Sort of a huge fucking deal, hilarious and a pillar and inspirational and successful and ... American.

 

“I think I can fit that in my schedule. Niall?”

 

Niall makes an unintelligible noise into the phone. “Yes. Haha. Yes.”

 

Within weeks, Harry’s flown to the US, taped a segment, and returned home. When Ellen’s show airs, it sparks some sort of interest in his book, and the publishing house prints copies in America.

 

The sales from the book have officially made Harry’s eyes grow wide. Niall is in a blissful state for a little while, he and Harry relax and enjoy Harry’s American success. Oddly enough, it seems that most of Harry’s market is in America, not England. Harry doesn’t mind though, is too caught up in the fact that he’s actually written and published and made money off of a book.

 

===

 

By June, Harry and Niall are living together in London. The flat is nice, easily afforded with the checks that Harry gets and Niall’s promotion he got when he graduated uni and joined the company he worked at full time.

 

As the summer progresses, Harry finds himself growing bored. He’s got a deal that he has to have another book by next April, and he finds the pressure less than pleasing. He needs inspiration, and ends up texting Liam.

 

Harry had kept in touch and when Liam found out that Harry and Niall were moving to London, he enthusiastically invited them to visit any time. Harry takes Liam up on the offer, and ends up hanging out with Liam all day, watching him edit tracks.

 

He does this for a week. Each night, he goes home and does something for dinner for him and Niall. He finds himself getting into a routine during June: visit with Liam, visit with Niall (watching his brainstorming process for a campaign can’t be described with any adjectives Harry knows), sometimes cook for Niall, sometimes go out with his friends and their work buddies for drinks. He plays a lot of video games and putters around exploring London, thinking about another book.

 

Eventually Niall makes him do something more productive then follow his friends around all day. He and Harry have a bit of a manly heart-to-heart. Harry’s spilled all of his adolescent secrets: the daydream he had about a perfect family, the aspirations of law he had, the fact that he makes plans for himself when he has no earthly idea what he is doing and how it’s how he ended up in journalism, Nick, writing... This time, Harry admits that he doesn’t know what he wants right now and has no inspiration for a book.

 

Niall advises him to get a dog. Harry blinks before realizing that he’s an adult who has no definite hours of office, so who better? He goes to a shelter and finds a 2 year old female mutt. She’s a little bigger than a border collie, and has a coat filled with spots of white, cream, gray, and brown. She’s shy, Harry can tell, but tentatively licks Harry’s palm when he stretches it out. He takes her home and spends way too much time with her in his lap while he tries to work.

 

He names the dog Pirate, because she has a sort of patch over one eye and is freaking adorable. Pirate, in turn, lives up to her namesake and habitually steals things. Harry will be missing a shoe, sweater, bracelet (anything-- even the remote once) and will find it dragged over to the dog bed in the hallway between Harry’s room and the kitchen.

 

===

 

Over the year, Harry occasionally writes and spends a lot of time in the park with Pirate. By April, he’s got his next book done. It chronicles the life of a small town business woman in New England, in America. It’s very different than the first book, and Harry would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of it. (He also manages to make the protagonist have and love a dog, much like he feels about Pirate. The thought makes him giggle and Niall just roll his eyes in fondness.)

 

He spends April and May promoting his book. He goes on Ellen’s show again, and she says he’s charmed her whole audience. She wants to talk to him about his life some more-- where is he now that he’s graduated, why the new direction with the book...

 

He also gets news from his publishing house that they’ll give him eighteen months for another book, if he’ll take the deal. He accepts through Niall, happy that he has an extra six months-- almost like a bit of a vacation. (The small, doubting part of his mind says it’s because his editor knows he’ll need extra time to even think of a third book, that the publishing house doubts his abilities and, and, and, Harry could go on... but he needs to snap out of it.)

 

His second book is bringing more attention to him, partly because of it’s success in the States. His first book is also climbing the charts, having finally made it back over from the US and now growing in popularity in the UK.

 

He isn’t a complete public figure: his picture is tiny on the inside jacket of his books, and the publishing house has an image of him on their website for him. But he does more written interviews than television appearances, save for the American ones. There’s something about having his privacy that he’s grateful for.

 

===

 

By June he’s itching to write again. He wants a new direction for the book. Having drawn on his own experiences to write his first book, and then the observations he’s made of some of his friends to write the second, he needs something fresh for his third.

 

Each of his prior books have answered some sort of question for Harry, about who he is, what he wonders about, what he wishes for.

 

He gets the idea from Niall. He’s sitting on the couch with him, nearly ready to head to bed when Niall asks for a possible sequel to the first book.

 

Harry’s brows knit in concentration. “I could try,” he offers. “But I don’t know where to take it. I need new characters. Everyone from _Measuring Days_ is wrapped up, you know?”

 

Niall nods, gets off the sofa and lifts his arm above his head to stretch. “Let it simmer,” he advises before padding away to go to bed.

 

He turns back to music, shuffles his iPod. Sugar Ray’s “Fly” plays. _“Dance a little stranger, show me where you've been. Love can make you hostage, wanna do it again? There’s no time to think about the starting or the end. We’ll find out what I’m told, my mother she told me so. I just wanna fly... Put your arms around me baby, put your arms around me baby.”_

 

“I Want To Know What Love Is” by Foreigner comes on next.

 

He’s got an idea about a third book, one that is more painful than the first two. If the first was a project Harry put together from his observations of life during uni, and the second was him proving that he could write more than just what he knows, the third will showcase his ability to make his style work for anything. He’s got something in mind, a love story, maybe.

 

Except it won’t necessarily have to have a beautiful, happy ending. He wants to show that love-- Love, because it’s so powerful it should be uppercased-- is ultimately what scares everyone. It makes people crave happy endings, but it also makes them nervous to try for their own.

 

Hell, he knows it better than anyone. He’s been in love, and he questions its validity himself. Asks why he needs it, because he’s content with life so far, why does he need to share it with someone?

 

But it’s because he’s asking that question that he needs to write about it. He can’t let himself be that way, hates that love can bring people down when it’s meant to bring people up.

 

He wants to do a sequel for his first book, but the characters in it are written out. But if he made new characters...

 

In _Measuring Days_ , the skit Harry wrote for ColRadio popped up temporarily. It was a murder mystery, and not the focus of the entire book, but it had its place. Harry wonders if he could draw into the same world of the first book but dive into a new character, perhaps one of the law officers.

 

The novel had been about... a lot of things (the futuristic Harry who was supposed to be a lawyer, a small bit of it was about a murder case, there was a bit about a college law professor who ended up contributing it to the solving of the case and then caught up in a relationship with a former law student who defended the accused criminal... yeah, it was a bit complex and all fictional.).

 

Harry had written the characters into reality, given them all habits and hopes and thoughts. But he thought about what Niall had told him about his education, that his law classes would help in the writing of legal bits. And that he could dive back into the first book but leave the original characters alone, maybe focus back into the courtroom. He could write about a judge, or about another trial, or maybe a mystery...

 

He dozes off while running through scenarios that he wants to write.

===

He wakes up to Pirate’s nose nuzzling into his hand that dangles off the mattress. Her tail is wagging and she has dropped an old football by Harry’s nightstand. 

Harry fumbles for his phone on the table and clicks it on to check the time. It’s only 6:28. He lets out an undignified groan but like Pirate seems to know the sound as reluctance, she lets out her own small pitiful whimper. 

“Nooooo,” he groans. “Go ‘way.” Pirate doesn’t listen, instead opting to lick Harry’s hand. Harry opens his eyes again to look at the pup. 

She looks... adorable. Her eyes are sad and she noses down to nudge the ball closer to Harry, as if she’s trying to point out exactly what she wants from Harry. 

“Fine,” he mutters, as he pushes his comforter back and swings his legs out of bed. Within ten minutes, Harry’s got old shorts and a t-shirt on. He finds one tennis shoe by Pirate’s bed, and once he locates the second and her leash, he and Pirate leave (football in tow) for the park. It’s about a fifteen minute walk, but Harry can sit on a bench with his laptop and type if he feels like it, and it’s got a dog-friendly zone. 

When they get to the park, Pirate does her business and Harry cleans it up and tosses the bag in a little trashcan. Then he kicks the ball out for Pirate and lets her chase it and bring it back to him. Usually, Pirate ceases to cooperate after one kick, choosing to steal the ball and play keep away. She makes Harry chase her and try to steal the ball back, which is fun but actually exhausting because Pirate doesn’t seem to ever want to stop her game.

Harry loves the times he has in the park, because he realizes how lucky he is that he basically can sit there all day, unlike a lot of people who probably don’t have the schedule Harry does. Harry watches the joggers come and go, the rest of the park a bit empty because kids are still in school. He sees a few guys who look like they could still be in uni swing by and start an ultimate frisbee game at lunch time. By now, he’s sitting on a bench with Pirate curled up behind his legs. 

He’s getting hungry, so he nudges Pirate and picks up the ball, clicks his tongue to signal to Pirate that he’s leaving. She happily leads him home and as soon as Harry’s started to make lunch, falls asleep on her pillow. 

A few days later, Harry takes Pirate back to the park. Harry indulges her and plays keep away for ten minutes before he settles into his spot on the bench. He chucks the football for her and opens his laptop while he waits for Pirate to come back.

“Good job, Pie!” he enthuses when she comes galloping back. Because she’s a little small, she can’t hold onto the ball very well, but she’s doing a pretty good job, and she drops it and it rolls to Harry. He picks it up and throws it again, then opens a document. 

He’s thrown it for her a few more times when he realizes that he’s been typing for a minute and Pirate hasn’t come back. He looks up and feels a faint feeling of panic set in when he can’t see her. “Pirate!” he shouts, setting his laptop on the bench. 

He shouts her name a few more times and with a feeling of relief, he spots Pie coming out from behind a stand of trees, football in mouth. 

She’s running at him full speed and it’s adorable, she opens her mouth to bark at Harry and the ball drops out of her mouth. She has to stop running when she realizes it and spins around to collect her toy. Harry can’t help but laugh as she starts running to him again. 

Until he spots someone chasing Pirate. He can tell it’s not just a jogger because the guy running is running straight to him as well, waving his arm. “Hey! Come back!” 

Harry drops down to ruffle Pie’s ears and the football gets dropped in his lap. 

The blue football. 

The ball the Harry and Pie play with is scuffed, silver and black. The ball that Pirate has brought back is a blue ball with a white logo on it, and possibly explains the man quickly approaching Harry. “Hey! Thief!” 

Harry stands up and holds the ball. The guy gets to Harry and slows down, hands on hips. Harry would be worried, but he’s smiling. “I’m sorry, did Pie get your ball?” 

“Pie? You named your dog after a dessert?” The man is a few inches shorter than Harry, and he’s... sweaty. His hair is sticking to his forehead, and the shirt he has on has a “v” of sweat on it. His arms are crossed and he’s got one brow raised, but he doesn’t look pissed. “‘Nd yeah, I was innocently playing footie with some mates and she joined in. It was cute and then she snatched the ball and ran.”

Harry shoots a grin and a grimace. “Sorry, mate. She’s normally pretty well-behaved, aren’t ya, Pip?” He bends down to pat her belly, and then stands back up to hold the guy’s ball out to him. He looks vaguely familiar. “She loves keep away but we were trying fetch so I wouldn’t have to leave my bench,” Harry offers, humor in his voice.

The man offers a quick smile before taking his ball back. “Yeah, whatever, it’s fine. She’s cute so it’s okay. Thanks, mate,” he says before turning and running back to the open field behind the trees. 

Harry looks down at Pirate. “Silly pup,” he sighs. He goes to collect his laptop and then holds Pirate’s leash while she and Harry try to find the ball Harry kicked earlier.

===

That night over dinner, Harry recounts the story to Niall. “Pirate was a bad dog today,” he says. She’s currently sitting in front of the oven, as if it would warm her up even though it’s summer.

Niall’s mouth is full but he sends a questioning look anyways. 

“We were at the park and I was on the bench, Pie was just chasing balls I sent out. And then the silly goose breaks into a footie match to play keep away and then promptly steals these guys’ ball. One guy had to go chase her to get it back. He was cute.”

Niall laughs. “Was he mad?” 

“No, actually. I think he kind of just laughed it off because Pirate is just so damn cute,” Harry grins. “The only problem was that I had to go and search for her ball then.”

“Did you say anything to the cute park guy and ask for his help to find your ball?” Niall’s smirk cannot be contained. 

Harry glares. “I did not, Niall. Because sweaty people in parks aren’t there to socialize with strangers and their dogs, Niall. Or get hit on by not entirely straight men.”

“True,” Niall agrees. “I just think it would have been a perfect opportunity for innuendo.”

Harry rolls his eyes.

===

That night, Harry writes that scene out. It’s sweet enough to give him a cavity and it’s too fictional and terrible for his third book, but it gives him more ideas.

The next morning, Niall’s eating breakfast at the table with a paper when Harry pads out to the kitchen. Niall keeps normal hours because of his job, which Harry is grateful for because he fears that without Niall, he’d basically be up at any time of day or night with no regular or reasonable sleeping pattern. 

“I want to write about a football player,” Harry announces. 

Niall nods and flips his paper to the next section. He usually doesn’t offer much feedback to Harry until Harry’s nearly finished with his draft. Harry settles in at the table and plops his head on his arms, not ready to be functioning just yet.

Breakfast is interrupted when Niall spits coffee into his cereal bowl. He’s got the mug paused halfway between his mouth and the table, and he lets it drop heavily, spilling over the sides.

Harry looks up, still sleepy to meet Niall’s eyes. “What?” 

“What!” Niall’s eyes are huge and he’s biting his lip, a grin quickly filling up his face. He throws the paper at Harry, leaving Harry to try and let it not dip into the milk in his bowl. “You made the fuckin’ list!” 

**Author's Note:**

> I've been thinking about this fic a whole lot. I've been writing this at the same time as a few others, and it began with my idea: "Harry likes college and hates college and realizes he likes a boy but then realizes he doesn't love him enough and secretly writes a book (while still studying studiously) which gets publishes and then Harry wants to write more, and later he does, sort of like Castle and Beckett he needs to shadow someone, but instead of shadowing a cop he shadows an athlete, and ends up going back to the first boy he fell for to find a contact, and then he realizes he loves the athlete happy ending" --> let's just say it's a little different now... bear with me? Additionally, I wrote the first chapter and then went back and changed the tense for the entire thing so if something doesn't make sense, my apologies :)


End file.
